


let’s try something new for old time’s sake

by thoughtsofaconfinedtaxpayer



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Frustrated Sara, He is the best part of the entire piece, Humor, Jumps in Time, Original Character - Freeform, Understanding Ava, minimal angst really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsofaconfinedtaxpayer/pseuds/thoughtsofaconfinedtaxpayer
Summary: Edited to correct some of the small grammatical errors I found. No new content.With egg shells beneath her feet, Sara took the three steps separating her from a woman furiously attempting to put together a puzzle whose pieces time had yet to make.  She was asking for blind trust, acceptance without proof, from a woman known for her deliberately planned existence and contingency plans for the worst case scenario of events she had yet to encounter. Sara was asking that woman to ignore reason, toss aside any and all thought and just say yes. A soft smile grew with the understanding of how much this woman would eventually love her, how much their son would eventually love her, and how much she knew she already loved them.The wonky yet charming, time jumping, definitely been done before story where time travel, ironically, doesn't exist that I desperately needed to get out of my head.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Recently, an idea wouldn't leave me and my three hour commute alone. So, please treat this kindly. I just need it out of my head.

Sara Lance spent much of her week with amateurs. The up and coming young professionals of her company required attention and, despite her intentional hard-lined demeanor, she had been carefully chosen to help them learn and grow and, evidently, cry because there were no cut and dry answers to the design and maintenance of civilization. Her interns asked questions better answered with some internal reflection and the search engine of their choosing. She had learned quickly that she was their favorite form of both. It should not be shocking that people tend to make improving their lives an almost insurmountable task, but it was a lesson best learned early.

After relying almost entirely on patience she didn't have, Sara welcomed a Friday design meeting at which at least some semblance of maturity would be present. She was currently seventeen minutes late, so that maturity only came in the way of the new Director of Strategic Planning and Development, Ava Sharpe, who had already called to ensure she hadn't forgotten. The woman was undoubtedly intelligent, but it was her zero tolerance for incompetence that had Sara almost giddy at the opportunity to think critically and quickly about solutions to problems that didn't start with someone forgetting where the bathroom was, again.

She pulled the front door open and was met by a man leaning comically close to his screen, his eyes flashed quickly between the keyboard and the clipboard to his right. The similarities between him and her interns were unnerving. He was confused, just stubborn enough to be dangerous, and had an inhumanly high need to please. She cleared her throat in lieu of a more dignified greeting to not startle the man into injury.

"You must be Miss. Lance," he smiled, extending his hand toward Sara. She took it with a tight draw of her lips and nodded. "Gary Green. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." The ear to ear grin he wore left Sara curious how a woman of Ava Sharpe's reputation would hire a man as generally happy as the one still shaking her hand. Perhaps opposites do attract, even in a professional setting.

"Gary. I'm late."

"Oh, yes! Sorry. Right this way. Director Sharpe is waiting for you."

With a well-practiced mix of clumsiness and grace, he rose from his chair and made his way around the desk to the security door, only displacing two picture frames in the process. He opened the door and waved his arm, allowing her to enter first while remaining noticeably close as they walked down the hallway. The narrow corridor was blindingly white save for the dark wooden doors and sky-blue nameplates metered down the wall. Sara always marveled that any productivity came out of offices with such blatant disregard for taste.

"It's the next door on the right. I'll just let the Director know you're here," he said, squeezing past her to reach the handle first. His knock was more forceful than anticipated, and he didn't wait for a response, which Sara assumed was a poor choice.

"Excuse me, Director?"

"Gary." The voice behind the door was forceful, direct, and heavy with fatigue and repetition. Despite the evident disregard for how it was received, Sara recognized the tone and heard the softness that came from forced patience. "What have we talked about?"

"Knock, wait for a response, and then enter," he answered gleefully, overly proud of himself for remembering the simple request. After a moment of silence, his face shifted down in a stream of understanding. "Right. Sorry, Director. I'm working on that middle part. It's just that you’re the only one here with that rule."

"Gary."

"Yes."

"Why did you knock?"

"Oh! Miss. Lance is here for you." He was back to inhumanly giddy in an instant. If Sara had more energy she would be interested in how he functioned so animatedly. But the sound of heels against the carpet grew, and her interest was drawn to the striking woman who revealed herself behind the door.

"You're late, Miss. Lance. That will be all Mr. Green. Thank you," she said, before turning to Gary who stumbled backward, waving goodbye before moving down the hallway in a motion Sara was forced to assume was skipping.

"He's quite...unique."

"He came with the position. Close the door and take a seat." The director moved with unparalleled grace back to her desk. Sara used the five strides from the door to the chair as an opportunity to appreciate the wall of accolades hanging behind the dark oak desk. Knowing the reputation of a person and seeing it in framed form, she found, were surprisingly different experiences.

"While I was waiting for you to arrive, I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with your submittal. Several questions come to mind."

"Well, I am here as long as it will take to answer them."

"I think we should begin with whether or not this is a serious proposal."

The fact that she hadn't been asked a question was surprisingly low on Sara's list of possible comments. There was little about her driving across town during peak traffic on a Friday afternoon to personally meet with the director that sent a message of joking. However, the director's rumored sense of humor was lacking, so Sara assumed the concern was genuine.

"I don't see why I would waste either of our time with something that was not serious, Director."

"For starters, this goes against our standards, the standards of the state, and in general what is considered normal."

"That is still not a question," Sara pressed, leaning further back into her chair, folding her hands on her lap. Her years in the field, working weekends, bringing work home until her kitchen table more resembled a desk, made her unwilling to have the work of her team belittled or questioned. "Instead of calling this meeting to chastise me and my team's ideas, why don't you think of it as an opportunity to be on the forefront of innovation."

"While I will certainly give you innovative, you haven't shown that it will work. There is no data to suggest these design features are better than the current governing standard."

"It works just fine."

"Show me," Ava challenged in a voice that pulled Sara forward, bringing her to the edge of the desk and no more than three feet from a raised eyebrow and an immutable posture. The pinstriped jacket hanging on the back of Ava's chair was a sharp contrast to the blinding white button-up shirt which served only to highlight her dark eyes still steadily holding Sara in place. "Show me, Miss. Lance and we can discuss the mound of variances you are going to need."

"Sweetness." Sara heard the word moments after it escaped her lips, not sure when it had formed or why it had come out so easily. She moved her tongue against her teeth and focused on swallowing any remaining outbursts down. Ava's features softened momentarily, returning to their default but not before Sara saw the slight uplift of her lips. She wrung her hands against her pants slowly, counting her metered breaths until she could feel her pulse slow.

"Good. I mean good," Sara recovered. "The interns showed up this week, and I've been training them; unfortunate side effect. Next week we will work on professionalism with a focus on vocabulary."

"I see. Ours arrived two weeks ago, unfortunately." Ava leaned back in her chair, adjusting the line of buttons on her shirt. Once they were back in a straight line, she raised her head but didn't look at Sara when she spoke again, rather her eyes stayed trained on the desk in front of her. "A word of advice: try teaching them to stay within what is considered conventional before involving them in your grand ideas. It is best to know the limits before you try to exceed them."

"Director Sharpe. Where would the fun be if all I ever showed you was the same boring idea as every other company you'll work with? You wouldn't want just a carbon copy of what everyone else is doing."

"I never said I didn't like it," Ava bit back, meeting Sara's eyes again, holding her gaze with assurance. "Or that I in any way falsely expected carbon copy ideas from you. Your reputation precedes you as well, Miss. Lance."

"Then you know that my team and I don't back down easily."

"Hence the meeting today, though I am not asking you to back down. I am merely asking that you accept that you are not always completely correct every time you open your mouth."

Sara exhales until her lungs are empty before offering a tight nod. Clearing her throat, Ava wheeled her chair closer to the desk, forcing herself to sit up straighter as she grabbed the handful of bound pages. "So, shall we begin with page one?"

* * *

The bar was absent of music but loud with chatter and the unmistakable sound of glass hitting wood. It would be difficult to admit that perhaps Amaya had a point about her getting out more. Despite working with her and Nate, one of the men meeting them, Sara hadn't been to The Wave-Rider in long enough for him to ask for her order instead of just handing over the usual. There was a silver lining when he cleared a table for them, so she figured they would call it even.

For the most part, she let Ray and Zari control the conversation. They were working on some crucial scientific something that she was aware of but had no objective knowledge about, and their stories were infinitely more exciting than interns and diagrams that the rest of them dealt with every day. Apparently, Zari had almost ruined Ray's year-long experiment because she unplugged the wrong cord. As the story went, friendships were tested.

Nate, as he always had, chimed in at an inappropriate time, and Amaya kicked him under the table, seizing the silence as an opportunity to talk about the new proposals she was working on, and Sara found comfort in the familiarity of the conversation, the pace, the gentle nudge Nate gave when he was excited about something. Amaya mentioned their most recent project and Sara was transported back to a desk, a proposal, and a woman who should not be in the forefront of her mind.

* * *

_ "Sometimes, crazy works, Ava. Sometimes rules are meant to be stretched a little, adjusted for the betterment of society." _

_ "Miss. Lance." _

_ "Call me Sara. It takes less time." _

_ "Sara, people weren't ready for self-driving cars, and you want to introduce pods that shoot them from one place to the next at half the speed of sound. How do you expect to convince them that their tax dollars aren't being wasted on a hyper-pod?" _

_ "Hyperloop and no one is ever ready for their everyday lives to change: for better or worse. That doesn't mean we shouldn't push them towards it." _

_ "Kicking and screaming, I presume is your preferred shoving method?" _

_ "If that's what it takes yes." _

_ "As I have stated previously, I agree with your ideas here. I do, but you must think past it being reasonable. People aren't reasonable. Have you ever considered asking them what they want before you spend thousands of dollars on what they will surely call far-fetched ideas?" _

_ "Yes, and it's a horrible idea." _

_ "Of course, it is," Ava sighed, grabbing the proposal from beneath the mound of loose, sketch paper that littered her desk. "That actually brings me to page 54." _

_ Sara looked at the clock on the wall. They had been at this for nearly two and a half hours. Based on the current rate, they had another hour to go, and they hadn't reached the most complicated part. She rested her head in her hand and waited for the almost assured late evening. _

* * *

The pressure on her thigh shifted Sara's attention to the conversation she was supposed to be in though she had been content just to enjoy the company.

"Sara had a meeting with the new director in Central City this afternoon," Amaya responded, though Sara was unsure to what question. "The message I got after was that it was fun, though I am not sure we have the same definition of the word."

"You can't rely on pissing off every office in the greater central area as your definition of fun."

"I didn't piss her off," Sara defended, snapping her attention to Nate who didn't appear ready to back down.

"Her," Ray asked, pulling his chair back to the table, though Sara hadn't recalled him leaving.

"Is that why you didn't answer any of my calls," Nate asked in a tone that could have passed as accusatory to anyone else. "I tried calling like four times. At least three interns were looking for you."

"You can just tell them I ran away next time."

"Wait, Sara Lance spent all afternoon in a confined space with another human being, and she called it fun?" It was Zari's incredulous voice and the half-hearted apology in Amaya's eyes that caused the drink she was holding to be consumed in one long gulp.

"Well, I need to meet this woman." Ray was almost hopeful, and the rest of the table was staring at her like she was required to expand on the topic.

"You might get your chance," Amaya said softly, almost pryingly, as she trained her eyes on Sara. "That's her at the bar, isn't it?"

"So, it is." Sara was noticeably surprised to see her there, but it was the jacket covering an empty chair next to her that fully grabbed her attention. Ava was there with someone. Before she can stop herself, Sara pushed her chair back and made her way to the bar with Nate yelling behind her.

"Sara, where are you going?"

"To get a drink," she responded, leaving no room for further discussion.

* * *

"So, she does take breaks from single-handedly standardizing the world into the dark ages." Sara leaned against the chair, keeping a respectable distance. She acknowledged Sara's presence but made no effort to continue the conversation. Sara couldn't blame her; she used to keep her personal and work life separate intentionally. It kept them both from getting messier. But then she saw the bottle Mick had lazily left on the bar in front of the director and was impressed.

"And she drinks good whiskey."

"To soften the stick up my ass, I am sure," came the surprisingly soft response which Sara took as permission to continue the conversation.

"You know, I've heard that rumor, too."

"I might as well include it on my resume."

"I feel it has more impact in an interview setting."

"Can I help you with something, Miss. Lance?" Ava met Sara's eyes for the first time with a haze of annoyance that covered something that seemed familiar. Though, as long as it wasn't entirely annoyance, Sara had more reason to stay than leave. Her motives may have been her stubborn nature, or her still empty hands, or the curiosity about a woman who appeared less imposing in front of a dusty bar than behind a pristine desk.

"Are you just going to stand there all evening?"

"Undecided."

"Sara..."

"How about I stand here until Mick gets my drink and the owner of this jacket returns, then I will leave you to enjoy your evening."

"It's not what you think," Ava said, shaking her head and taking a sip from her glass. The lack of response found her looking over to see a thoroughly confused woman who was apparently not thinking on the same wavelength Ava had been. She took another sip before responding.

"The jacket. It's Gary's."

"I'm not here to judge."

Ava laughed, loudly and unabashed and Sara could not stop the small uplift of her lips. She filed away a mental note to make the woman laugh again somehow.

"It's definitely not what you think." Sara put her hands up in surrender. "For some reason, he thought we didn't spend enough time together this week. We needed a few more hours."

"You could have said no."

"He's a good guy," she defended, watching the ice cube swirl in her glass. "Besides, a few drinks weren't a bad idea."

"Don't tell anyone, Director," Sara countered with a smirk, seeing through the transparent facade Ava created to mask her, apparently, genuine concern for other people. "They may reconsider your hard-ass scale."

"Director Sharpe's not a hard-ass." The voice was unmistakably Gary's, though it held an air of defensiveness Sara was almost proud of him for having. "Who says that?"

"Everyone," Ava said when Sara shrugged. Gary looked like he wanted to continue the conversation, but the pressure Ava applied to her nose just between her eyebrows led Sara to believe that she would rather publicly admit she's wrong, so Sara took a step back and pulled his chair out.

"Sit, Gary."

The distraction worked, and his ear to ear grin assured her that he was done speaking for at least a few minutes. Waving her hand, Sara got The Wave-Rider attention quickly. With a grunt and a heavy roll of his eyes, he stood and watched as she pointed to the table she was supposed to be sitting at and the two people she stood beside. Ava began to protest, but Mick was already pouring with one hand and opening beer bottles with the other.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to buy our drinks."

"Accept that people want to do nice things for other people, with or without a public hearing to support them."

Mick returned, and Sara handed him a couple of bills before grabbing the glasses. Positioning them in her hands, she gracefully maneuvered away from the bar.

"Besides, I thought it might make you smile a little more."

"That's so sweet of her," Gary practically sang as Sara walked away without looking back, Ava watched her until she stopped at the table on the other side of the room.

"Gary. Drink."

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Zari's interest was more visible than vocal while the rest of the table had their attention trained on the drinks in hand.

"I was being polite."

"You were polite," Nate repeated, disbelief dripping from his words. "To Director Stick It Where The Sun Don't Shine Sharpe?"

"Hey. I resent that. I am a nice person!"

"Lay off, guys," Amaya said as Nate opened his mouth to speak again. Before he could utter another word, Sara took his glass and drank it, glaring at him until the last drop was gone. Her eyes dared anyone else to continue, but they all sat a little further back in their chairs and waited until Ray eagerly changed the topic to the numerous studies about the proper way to mix whiskey with water.

"You shouldn't be so hard on them," Amaya whispered, leaning close to Sara. "They just want to see you happy."

"I am happy."

"Sara, you know what I mean. They want to see you put yourself out there and find a sense of happiness that isn't ice cold or a gym bag. They mean well."

It didn't change the fact that she needed some privacy, some semblance of choice or decision that wasn't passed around and through the table of opinions first. She could feel the beginnings of pressure around her lungs as the moments ticked by and quickly downed the water in front of her before standing up and grabbing her jacket.

"Hey, whoa, where are you going," Nate rushed to say. "We just got here."

"Been a long day. I just want to go home." Offering everyone a tired smile, she placed a hand on Amaya's shoulders with a weak squeeze. "I'll see you guys next week."

Sara pushed her still full drink in Nate's direction and walked through the bar. She was hit by a gust of the coming winter as soon as she opened the door. It was oddly quiet once the door shut behind her. The streets at night had long been a type of therapy: the stillness, the quiet, the absence of other people. Her apartment was a little over a mile away, and every step relieved her of the weight on her neck that she could feel in her stomach. Vowing to make up for leaving so quickly another week, she was barely inside her apartment before she crashed awkwardly on the couch. Not bothering with trying to find her bed, she shut her eyes and was asleep in record time.

* * *

The beginnings of light broke through the window, bouncing against the walls and falling on Sara's cheeks, slowing creeping up to force her eyes open. She blinked quickly, cursing the world for having to spin around something so bright and demanding and punctual. Burying her face in a pillow, she wrapped her arms around it, hoping to cling to sleep for a moment longer and took a slow deep breath.

Her body froze.

She exhaled quickly and tried again, filling her lungs with the same foreign scent from moments before. Lifting her head, she took in the smoothness of the lavender pillowcase that was not hers. It wasn't her pillow. It wasn't her bed. Against her better judgment, Sara peeled the matching sheet and comforter back and let her feet drop on the floor, her toes sinking into the plush carpet. In front of her stood a dark brown chest, a light grey flannel top lying haphazardly across it. A large leather chair sat in the far corner of the room next to the window. It was worn with use and given the large bookshelf beside it, Sara could imagine its purpose, though she couldn't think of anyone she knew who read enough to need a chair dedicated to the task.

An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her stomach and quickened the beat of her heart until she was sure it was moments from jumping through her skin. Wherever she was, she hadn't an inkling of how she got there.

Beyond the bedroom door, she could hear the muffled sounds of dishes clanking against each other and the soft hum of recorded laughter followed by a low chuckle. There were people out there, two if she had to guess, and she was separated from them by a partially closed door.

With her senses heightened, Sara walked to the door and peaked out, trying to gain traction before fully emerging into the modestly sized living area that waited at the end of the small hallway.  Her foot met the cold tile, and she gasped, gaining the attention of the young boy who couldn't be more than fourteen who sat on the couch, his feet thrown on the coffee table.

"Good morning, how'd you sleep?" The voice came from a woman Sara knew to be Ava Sharpe. She was the first thing Sara recognized, though her presence did not offer an explanation. While she didn't know much about the director, she would have assumed the woman would have mentioned having a son. That seemed to be something parents did: comment on their children constantly.

"That well, huh," Ava offered again when Sara remained silent, her eyes tracing the woman's face, trying to remember how they had gone from strategic planning meetings to quiet good morning's in what Sara was concluding was the director's apartment overnight.

"It is Sunday," he said as though it was relevant.

"Sunday," she muttered to herself, adding losing an entire day to the building list of things that didn't make sense. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"They say I'm yours, but I've come up with eight convincing reasons why I'm not," the boy said, giving no real attention to Sara or their conversation. He sounded too much like her for comfort.

"It's too early for your sass, young man."

"Who is that," she asked again, her voice rising, desperate for something to start making sense again.

"Your son," Ava chuckled casually, as though the question had been asked and answered many times instead of the life-altering information it was to the woman who now stood, mouth agape and eyes wide as her mind began to process.

"My so...I don't have a... you mean he came out of-" she stumbled, looking down, trying to figure how she could possibly forget such an event. She had heard of women giving birth before. There were several hours of pain and pushing and yelling and waiting and more pain. It was not a process one easily forgot.  "I think I would remember pushing an eight-pound bag of organs out of my...out of me."

"He knows you didn't give birth to him," Ava responded, setting the coffee pot on the counter, noticing the confusion that lined Sara's face and the panic that filled her eyes.

"So, he's your kid."

"He's yours, too."

"No, please, not everyone claim me at once."

"Hey, kid. Zip-it. In the middle of a crisis here."

"My existence does that to people."

"I'm sorry did you say, too? As in together? As in you and me and him..."

"Both of you stop it. Right now," Ava said, her voice solid with no room to argue or discuss further. "Zachary, go to your room. Sara, sit down."

With a lack of better options, Sara obeyed. Sara gripped roughly at her thighs, nearly shutting circulation off from her legs. The muscle in her back pulled in more directions than she thought they could, and she was reasonably sure her heartbeat was visible. With labored and coarse breath, she was suddenly thankful she had two lungs because her right rib cage felt as though she'd been punched repeatedly for the last hour. The sound of a distant door shutting and of bare feet moving across tile brought her back to the couch she was sitting on that most certainly wasn't hers and she tried to count her breaths until she managed to look up. Ava had cleared a place on the coffee table and taken a seat, reaching her hands out to Sara who pulled back quicker than she had intended.

"What is wrong with you?"

"With me," Sara nearly yelled, before pulling back into a forceful whisper, realization mounting with each word. "I come home to my apartment and wake up in your house, in your bed, and a random kid whom you claim is mine and yours which would mean that we are parents, together. Oh my god, are we married."

"I have a marriage license that says we are."

"I met you yesterday!"

"We met fifteen years ago."

"Fifteen years...is this some kind of joke, because it's not funny guys," Sara yelled to the empty space, hoping that Nate or Ray or Zari or anyone would pop out and save her.

"They aren't here, Sara. Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?" She reached out to feel Sara's forehead but was met with a grip that nearly dislocated her wrist. She gasped loudly, and Sara released her immediately, a fearful, almost shameful look ghosting over her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Ava nursed her wrist tenderly, her eyes never leaving Sara, attempting to no avail to understand. Her wife looked at her as though they were strangers, not lovers, not familiar, not even friends. The silence that sat between them was a stark contrast to the comfortable stillness that began that morning when Ava had stayed in bed longer than usual because Sara's entire weight had claimed her left arm. This stillness was empty, void of a decade and a half of memories. Sara needed someone she remembered, and for reasons Ava couldn't fathom, that wasn't her.

"I am going to go into the kitchen and get my phone," Ava said, hoping to not spook Sara further by unannounced actions. "I'm going to make a call. Can you sit right here until I get back?"

Sara nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach to ground herself. Ava's movements were slow and deliberate and once she was out of sight and Sara could hear the muffled sound of voices, she focused solely on her breath: in, out, in, out.

* * *

"Thanks for coming."

"You said  _ Sara  _ and  _ Urgent _ ." Zari rushed passed the open door where Ava stood, her expression unreadable except for the worry that seeped out in small hitches of otherwise steady breathing.

"I'm not sure."

Their tones were soft, as they stood in the entryway. Zari placed a comforting hand on Ava's arm, encouragement to continue and reassurance that she wasn't alone.

"She woke up and doesn't know we have a son, that we're married, truthfully that we were together at all."

"Have you called Gideon?"

"I didn't want to startle her more. If anyone can get her to cooperate, it's someone she actually remembers."

Zari nodded, reluctantly. She remembered years ago when Sara was young and frantic. There had been a handful of occasions where Sara was one step too far toward the cliff. She knew it was better to ease her back gently.

"Where is she?"

* * *

"This isn't funny."

"You think this is a joke?"

"I know it is. Last night we were at the Wave-Rider, Amaya told me I need to be happy, get myself out there and I wake up in Director Sharpe's bed with a kid she claims is mine, and I promise I don't make that good of a first impression."

Zari took a couple of steps toward Sara who didn't back away but had a glaze over her eyes that was an indication of the impulse to flee, so she breathed in deeply and began to tread lightly.

"Sara, what's today?"

"October 27th, 2018."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I... of course. I'm sure." Her hands flew widely, coming to a loud rest on her thighs.

Zari reached for the remote and turned the TV to a news station. There in the bottom left corner was the date which was only reassured by the anchor.

"Good morning, Central City. I'm Heather Thomas, and this is Michael Hendrick. The evening's top story comes to us from the recent 2033 fall festival. There have been reports of..."

The rest of the program is a blurred form of white noise. On instinct, Sara snatched the remote and began to find as many channels as possible that displayed the date. To her dismay, she only saw that she was somehow wrong.

"Punch me," she ordered Zari without warning, pointing to her shoulder and holding it out for the woman whose eyes became wide with surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Zari, I am giving you permission to punch me. Don't waste this opportunity."

"You aren't asleep, Sara."

"You do it then." Sara turned to Ava who looked like she had aged a lifetime in a matter of minutes, her eyes narrowed in concern, her left hand covering her mouth, her right gripped her side like a lifeline. At Sara's words, she merely closed her eyes, and Sara tried to convince herself that the glisten she saw had always been there.

"Someone needs to because I am... holy...what was that?" Sara's head flew forward from the force being hurled her direction from down the hall. She rubbed her neck tenderly and turned to see the young boy standing in the hallway, another throw pillow loaded and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

"Zachary William," Ava bellowed, utter shock evident in her voice, though her words were stern and authoritative, a trend Sara was noticing. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I was doing what Mom said," he shrugged, looking between the three women staring at him: one with shock, one with fear, and one with the semblance of pride. "She was literally asking for it."

"He's got a point," Sara offered, lamely. "Well, besides the whole Mom thing."

"Sara, you're not helping. And you, young man, know better than that. You are grounded for two weeks."

"Ah, Momma, don't be like that. I didn't actually hit her. I just propelled feathers wrapped in cotton at her in a quick, forceful manner."

"I will be however I want, and you will go back to your room and stay there until I can figure out what to do with you."

Zari had her hand over her mouth desperately trying not to laugh. He had a point, a very Sara point, but one nonetheless. It was not the time nor her place to say as much, though, because there was still the real and present issue of Sara's lack of memory.

Ava ran a hand through her hair and braced herself against the kitchen island with the other. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and let out a breath that took the full force of her concentration.

"I didn't mean to get him into trouble," Sara offered tentatively.

"You didn't...It's fine. I'll deal with that later," she deflected with a wave of her hand. "Zari, can you..."

"Of course," she answered without hesitation not needing an explanation, taking the extra two steps to stand directly next to Sara, offering the woman her hand. "Sara, would you come with me to see Gideon, please? We're going to see if we can get to the bottom of this."

Sara took her hand, and Zari led her around the couch and to the entryway before turning back to Ava. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

All Ava could muster was a tight nod.

* * *

"Interesting."

Sara didn't know much about the medical field, but she would place a handsome sum of money that interesting was not an encouraging word. "We're going to run a CT scan to see if we can get some answers. Sara, if you will follow me. Zari, please wait here."

As soon as Sara was out of earshot, Zari pulled out her phone and dialed the practiced number. Ava picked up on the third ring, and although she tried to sound collected, Zari could hear how winded the woman was as if she had sprinted down the hallway to answer.

"What did Gideon say?"

"They are taking her back for a scan now. Gideon asked her a list of questions and the only one she answered correctly was about who I am. We will know more in a few hours." The silence was deafening. What was there to say other than the painfully obvious fact that there was no new information and Sara still didn't remember anything? None of it was helpful. "You should be here, Ava."

"I think it's best that I'm not," came the quick, unyielding reply. "At least not until we know more. I've got to go pick up Zach in an hour, and I can already hear the onslaught of questions I don't have answers for yet."

"I know, but..."

"Zari, it's okay. I know when to back off when it comes to Sara," Ava said with a sense of finality that was respected, even though she disagreed. "Can you just make sure she comes home tonight after you're done?"

"Of course. I'll let you know when we are heading back."

The reply was a short, curt thanks and then she was gone. Zari knew she was right, but it didn't take away the feeling that the entire situation felt wrong.

* * *

The car came to a stop on the street outside of the condo, and she could almost see Sara's stomach drop to the floor when she put the car in park. There had been no way to prepare her that, according to medical science, she was a mother and a wife, memories or not. Every test she took came back well within the acceptable range, though Sara had begged to differ on the limits of that range.

"You're going to have to go in there at some point."

"Can't I just sleep on your couch tonight?"

"As your friend, I'm going to say no. You can call at any time, and I will answer, but this is your life. You need to be here, with your wife and your son. Running away from something just because you don't understand it is not the Sara I know. I don't think she's the Sara you know either."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered, her words hitting her feet. The car hummed softly under her supplying a constant reminder that Zari wasn't going to drive away with Sara still strapped inside.  Sara nodded slowly, a sense of resignation and acceptance in her movement as the car door opened and she stepped out.

* * *

The click of the doorknob moving gained the attention of the otherwise silent apartment. Ava focused her energy on not moving too quickly or with any outward show of need or concern. If the morning had been any indication, Sara was rightfully frazzled, and Ava knew the appointment with Gideon had done nothing to soothe her fears.

_ "All the tests came back negative," Zari said, fatigue clear in her voice. "According to Gideon, Sara is perfectly healthy. She has no explanation for her memory lapse." _

_ "That doesn't make any sense. How does someone lose a decade and a half of memory?" _

_ "She doesn't know, Ava. I'm sorry." _

_ "So, what are we supposed to do?" _

_ "She said to just be normal, go about your day per usual. Talk to Sara like you normally would, tell Zachary to do the same." _

_ "How am I supposed to act normal with a wife who doesn't remember marrying me?" _

_ "The best advice we have is to just go with whatever pace she sets. Don't cater to her but pay attention to how she responds and react accordingly." _

Normal. That was what Ava had most taken from their conversation. They had never been normal, never been typical and now she was expected to pretend they were for however long Sara continued to think they had just met. She could feel the knots in her neck pull harshly in opposing directions. A mind-numbing headache was starting to build, and it was apparent that it was going to be a long night. But, before she could reach that exciting prospect, she had to get through dinner.

"Zachary!"

"What?"

"Don't what me. Come help set the table."

"Kay."

"You're going to let your son talk to you like that?" Ava whipped around the see Sara, hands in her back pocket, swaying awkwardly in the entryway, impossibly small.

"Some days are better than others." She wasn't sure what to expect, but Sara offered a small smile, and it was entirely too much like her wife to not walk across the room and kiss her. Normal, she thought, just be normal.

"Are you hungry?"

A head of curls snapped up quickly. Under normal circumstances, Ava would have laughed softly and teased the woman about the giant hole that must be her stomach. Instead, she reached behind her, removed the lid from the pot and stirred its contents.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Can I help with anything?" The offer, no matter how genuine, was detrimental to any progress, Ava was sure. Sara would realize she didn't know where the salt was, or the plates, or the napkins, or anything in their house. Further showcasing her memory loss was not something Ava wanted to help Sara do.

"That's okay. But, since you mentioned it – you might want to close your ears." With one hand still in her pocket, Sara simply shrugged. She had a feeling whatever was about to happen was a typical occurrence, and she wanted to be a part of it. If she was going to be stuck in a time where this was her routine, then she was going to try to be present. Waving her free hand as a gesture to continue, Sara saw the beginnings of a smile from Ava, a sharp contrast to how her voice boomed seconds later.

"Zachary!"

"What?"

"Now! Not when you feel like it!"

"I'm on the pot, Momma! Give me a minute."

"Wash your hands when you're done!"

"This isn't my first time with this. Thank you!"

When the silence settled again their eyes met and the vibrant grin Sara attempted to control spread broadly. Locked in an exchange of apologetic glances and genuine enjoyment, they were taken by surprise when the bathroom door was yanked open, and footsteps pounded down the hallway.

"Do you remember you're my mom, yet?" Zachary walked into view, shaking his hands in a blatant display to prove himself which only gained him a stern and fed up rise of Ava's eyebrow. She was about to speak when Sara intervened.

"Sorry, kid. I wouldn't hold your breath."

"Looks like mom, talks like mom, but isn't mom. If it wasn't so inconvenient, it might be entertaining."

"Inconvenient," Sara questioned, looking at Ava who had begun moving pots to the table. To her surprise, she wasn't offended, more curious as to what other pieces of information she was missing.

"I had a practice tournament today, and I didn't have anyone in the stands yelling positions or attacks this time which was just more work for me..."

"Zach," Ava cut in once she saw Sara begin to sway uncomfortably again. As instructed, she logged the motion for the future when she might need to save Sara from the host of people they would see until their lives went back to normal. "Since I cooked and managed to set the table before you joined us, how about you handle the dishes tonight."

Knowing better than to argue, he resigned with a nod, made his way to the table, and plopped loudly in the chair. Ava mouthed an apology, but Sara waved her off. She hadn't eaten since she woke up and, coupled with the fact that whatever Ava cooked smelled familiar, she desperately needed something to do with her hands.

* * *

Glassware being arranged in the dishwasher and the sound of steadily running water helped fill the otherwise quiet room. They had moved to the couch after dinner, Ava offering a glass of wine which Sara accepted eagerly. As soon as they sat, Sara noticed the tension alleviate from the woman beside her. Ava laid her head on the back of the couch, taking long, deep breaths between drinks. Though she had no basis, Sara wondered if this was a typical Sunday for them: dinner, wine, and oddly comfortable silences. Ava appeared in her element, making it impossible not to notice how her hand traveled without hesitation to the middle of the couch before stopping suddenly. So, dinner, wine, comfortable silences, and holding hands were normal for them, for her.

"All right, Momma, all done. Can I go not be here now?"

"Just don't be loud." Ava waved her hand, refusing to open her eyes in a futile attempt to keep a headache from taking over.

The boy walked over slowly, apparently more aware of the proper protocol for his mother than Sara would have given a teenager credit for, especially one that was hers. He reached down, rubbed her forearm gently, pressed a slow kiss to her forehead, and whispered goodnight before throwing Sara an awkward, restrained wave. With a final squeeze of Ava's arm, he made his way back down the hallway, closed the door, and the muffled sound of laughter and sporadic lighting bounced from beneath the frame.

"You're good with him."

"So are you, in your own way."

"You said I didn't you know, have him. Was that...did you.... or did we..."

"We adopted him," Ava smiled, taking a long sip from her glass before rolling her head to face Sara. "You argued that if I thought you were hard to handle, I should imagine you with unpredictable hormone levels, mood swings, and morning sickness. It took me all of thirty seconds to agree with you."

The way Ava's face lit up at the memory and the fondness in her tone overwhelmed Sara enough to continue the conversation. If she kept talking, she would stumble on a topic that didn't make the woman sitting next to her look at her like they meant something, like she was capable of this life.

"When did we decide to have him?"

"Oh, it wasn't a 'we' decision," Ava laughed, pinning some of her hair behind her ear, trading looks between Sara, the rug, and the dwindling wine in her glass. "Don't get me wrong, I can't imagine life without him, he's my son, and I love him, but it was your decision. You came home one day with pamphlets and folders of information and said you had counted it out and done all the research and it was high time we become parents."

"And that was enough for you to make a life-altering decision to adopt a kid?"

Utter confusion laced Sara's face, and Ava wondered how much more she should divulge. How much was too much? When did it stop being casual questions and start becoming emotionally charged and likely too much for her wife to handle in one day? How much like her Sara was the woman sitting next to her?

Maybe it was the stress, the fatigue, the wine, or perhaps it was that Sara had always been able to make Ava gamble on reason, it dawned on her that the more significant risk was not that Sara would react poorly or pull away. The more considerable risk came in assuming their life had meant nothing, had been for nothing. Sitting up slightly, she placed her nearly empty glass on the coffee table and turned to face Sara.

"If it made you happy, Sara, I would have done just about anything."

Sara immediately ducked her head, unable to stomach the sincerity in the tone. Frustration boiled in her stomach at how she could forget someone caring that much about her.

"Look, I don't expect anything from you. I know you're struggling with this; I just want to help. And I... I really want you to stay here, with Zach and me. I know it's a lot, but I can sleep on the couch. I just want you here in case something else happens."

Any thoughts of circumventing Zari and asking Amaya, or Ray, or even Mick for help disappeared. It was replaced by an inescapable urge to find out what kind of person she was in a time where this was something she had, something she didn't ruin.

"Okay." Relief flooded Ava's face, forming a wide, bright smile. "I'll stay, but you have to tell me which drawers are mine and, most importantly, which toothbrush is mine. Also, where are the towels? I need to wash today off."

In any other circumstance, Ava might have taken offense to the statement. Instead, she stood up, placing her hands in her pockets and nodded towards the hallway.

"Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."


	2. The Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, folks! You're lovely. Stick with me through this one and make it a great day!

Morning came in a wave of shuffling feet, quiet whispers, and the deadbolt as it found a resting place in the doorframe. The pillow under her head smelled the same as the day before, the comforter was the same shade of purple. The dark wood dressers were the same impressive size, but now small dark blue dots lined the side of the wood facing the wall in the same drawers Ava had mentioned were hers. She stared at them longer than she wanted to admit and wondered if the entire apartment held similar, subtle reminders.

The stillness that hung over the house was deafening, and Sara envied anyone who had somewhere to be and something to do because at that moment her mind was solely occupied by the fact that it was still 2033 and she was still one-third of a family. The note in her hands was proving it had not all been a figment of her intoxicated imagination.

_ Sara, _

_ I hope you slept well, and we didn't wake you. I charged your phone, and it is next to the coffee on the counter. I've taken the liberty of telling Mick you won't be in today. He grunted and hung up. Typical.  You are welcome to go in if you want to though. I just wanted to give you time to relax - yesterday was a lot, for everyone. _

_ We won't be home until around six, but we will come bearing food. (Zach made me promise we could get wings tonight. He insists it will help the situation.) I was too tired to argue. _

_ Also, I alerted a couple of our friends to the situation. I figured the more people you had in your corner right now, the better. However, call if you need anything. Please. Otherwise, I'll look forward to seeing you tonight. _

_ Ava _

Several questions formed rather quickly, though two mattered more: which friends knew and under what possible circumstance did her and Mick work together.  The lingering thought of how the blue dots and the note arrived on her nightstand she was more than happy to ignore.

Needing to shake her mind from the spiral it was forming, Sara grabbed the hand full of pages left on her nightstand and made her way to the kitchen. The heavy aroma of brewed coffee filled the space and the morning suddenly did not feel as foreign. With her hands wrapped in warmth, she dared a glance at the highlighted, noted information Ava provided. If the schedule was any indication, it turned out that her life – their life – was utterly ordinary: work for Ava, then school for Zachary, Sara's alone time, Sara's work, Zachary's martial arts class, dinner, Sara coming home, repeat. Aside from the occasional work social and school banquet, their life was simple and expected.

Her mind shifted to the night before when Zachary had used the word inconvenient. He hadn't meant it how it was now running through her mind, but her hands suddenly began to itch with a need for something to do other than grip lightly to a now lukewarm mug.

The risk of leaving the house and running into someone she was supposed to know was easily the least appealing path. So, she ran through her options, and it alarmed her slightly that one of the most promising ideas was menial chores that couldn't have possibly changed. During her grand tour, Ava had mentioned in a quiet huff that the dirty clothes lying across the floor had been the casualty of a day that had gotten away from her. It was by no means and in no time her first choice, but it would give her something to do, and it would be helpful, something Sara was determined to be no matter the cost.

On her way to the laundry room, the gleam from the built-in bookshelf caught her attention. Ava had pointed it out, not giving it much attention, but Sara took the opportunity to notice the impressive collection of dozens of awards, plaques, and medals draped across the white painted wood, all bearing the name Zachary Lance and symbols and stances she recognized from martial arts.

_ 1st place, Star City Regional Team. 2nd Place, Area Championship. 1st Place, Star City Skills Assessment. Honorable Mention, Most Improved Student, Area Championship. _

He was talented. The Lance part would be added to the end of her growing list of questions.

* * *

The downside to her hands-on chore-based plan was that there were machines to clean clothes. Those, unsurprisingly, had not matured much in the past fifteen years, even if the button and setting counts had nearly tripled. It still took forty-five minutes to run a cycle, which was forty-five minutes she now had to find another task. That was how she came to stand a few feet away from the entirely opened cabinet system of the kitchen. She had emptied the contents of the dishwasher onto the countertops and was only halfway through finding appropriate locations when the counter buzzed beneath her hands.

_A. Sharpe: How is today going so far?_

_S. Lance: I'm still here. Still confused._

_S. Lance: But, I did learn the organization scheme of the laundry room, which was overly complicated._

_S. Lance: So... progress._

_A. Sharpe: I'm happy to hear it._

Returning her attention to the task at hand, she managed to place the cooking utensils in what she assumed was the correct drawer. When the mixing bowls found their new home with the measuring cups, she felt the familiar buzz again, three times in rapid succession.

_A. Sharpe: Wait._

_A. Sharpe: Why were you in the laundry room?_

_A. Sharpe: Did you wash clothes?_

_S. Lance:  Was I not supposed to? I didn't know what else to do._

_A. Sharpe: No. It's fine._

_A. Sharpe: I'm not complaining. You just haven't done laundry since we adopted Zach._

_S. Lance:  I can be helpful._

_S. Lance:  I take it I also don't put away dishes? Because I would never put coffee mugs on the top shelf_

_A. Sharpe: Again. Not complaining, but no. Not normally._

_S. Lance:  How about you tell me what I do help out with and I'll stick to that._

_A. Sharpe: ..._

_S. Lance:  You're funny._

_A. Sharpe: We can talk about it tonight...I'm stepping into a meeting._

Meetings, committees, and conferences filled her with the urge to be busy again, so she dropped the phone back on the counter, placing her hands on her hips, taking in her accomplishment just in time to hear the washer machine chime. Maybe she could exist in a life where this was a regular weekday. She wasn't sure how long that feeling would last, so she held it close and made her way back across the house.

* * *

Dishes: Done.

Clothes: Washed. Dried. Folded. Placed on the best guess of the owner's bed.

Bed: Not made because Sara was sprawled out on it.

Time: 12:13 p.m.

The sigh that left her lungs practically drained her of air. Her sense of comfort and accomplishment had lasted the exact length of time it had taken to complete each task. At this rate, the day was going to last much longer than she was capable of handling alone. Her plan to busy herself instead of dealing with the situation had failed miserably.

She couldn't escape it or the rising hint of the feeling that she did, no matter how insane, belong there. The proof surrounded her in the form of pictures that lined the walls like the storyboard of their life. There were some of Zach's birthday, though she couldn't say which one, and holiday dinners when he was young, likely soon after they adopted him. One was a snapshot of them at The Wave-Rider place surrounded by her friends, probably the day they got married based on her genuine smile and Ray pointing animatedly at her hand, but she didn't know. Several frames contained pictures of Zach holding his medals, striking poses, or with his arms wrapped around her shoulder with matching expressions of joy.

She tried to get a break from them by retreating to her room, but, on Ava's side of the dresser, there was a photo of Sara and Zach on the couch, a small foot resting just under her chin and her arm creating a barrier between the sleeping boy and the ground. It was, regardless of her personal recollection, abundantly clear the Sara in this time was genuinely happy and more content than she could remember being or thinking possible.

Her hands made the decision, and the call had gone through before she fully registered she placed it; she needed to get out, and she would need help. When the familiar voice came through the receiver, she knew it was the right choice.

"I had a feeling you may call." Amaya was predictably calm. Sara was confident she had never been more thankful for the woman in her life. The instinct to continually move and overthink vanished. It was nice to know that in the fifteen years she was missing, this woman had stuck around, that their friendship continued.

"Are you busy today?"

"I'm always busy, but I also always have time for you."

"Good. I could use a familiar face."

"I imagine you also have questions."

"So many questions."

"I can meet you at The Wave-Rider in forty-five minutes. We can start there."

Sara was halfway out of the door by the time she disconnected the call, happy to throw on the first items of clothing she could find. The thought of being irrationally early for the first time in her life never crossed her mind.

* * *

The most surprising part of Ava's day was how productive it had been. It would be well within reason to say that she had managed to cram several weeks' worth of menial tasks into a single five-hour period. Leaning back into her chair, she surveyed the remaining tasks thankful, for once, that her co-workers were less than efficient. The backlog they created was, in a bold stroke of irony, her saving grace. She reached her hands above her head, pulling them upward in a weak attempt to loosen her muscles. Something popped in her lower back, and she let out a low groan at the same time a small tapping noise drew her eyes the door.

"Bad time?"

"No. No. Of course not. Is everything okay?"

"I assume so," Zari shrugged, making her way to the empty chair in front of Ava's desk. "Last I heard Amaya was rushing out of the office to go meet Sara at The Wave-Rider. Looks like she's about to re-meet the big fella. Kind of sad I won't be there for that, actually."

"He already knows," Ava sighed, acutely aware of how tired she felt and almost certainly looked but finding the company of someone who understood refreshing. "I called him this morning. I imagine it will be less exciting than you think."

"I don't feel so bad then. Anyway, I brought you some food. Had a feeling lunch wouldn't be on your priority list today." She placed a small brown bag on the desk, not allowing Ava the opportunity to reject it. Ava smiled her appreciation and moved the bag to the left side of her workspace, away from the mounding tasks in front of her.

"Thank you for your help, yesterday," she said, wanting to make sure the opportunity didn't pass. "I don't think I said that."

"You did. Several times. Don't you remember? I can't have both of you losing your minds in the same week." It was a joke, Ava knew, but it didn't stop her gut reaction that it might make the entire situation easier. The thought of being on equal footing again was so enticing she did not realize she had voiced the thought.

"It's day two, Ava. You can't give up yet."

"I'm not giving up on anything. This is just not a problem I thought I'd ever deal with."

"To be fair, neither was Sara in general."

"Yes, but that was a good problem to have. This one is..." She trailed off; trying to determine which of the hundreds of bubbling emotions, she felt most. There was a little bit of anger because sometimes life was cruel and made things more difficult than necessary. There was a hint of fatigue because it took a surprising amount of effort not to outwardly show Sara any kind of affection, even in the three hours they had been together the night before. There was also a hint of annoyance because it wasn't fair. Unfortunately, the truth, the feeling she knew it to be, was worse and something she was less equipped to handle.

"Scary," Zari helped. When Ava nodded, she reached her hand, finding the other woman's and giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. "Have you tried explaining that to her? I imagine you're in agreement there."

"Day two, Zari. We're on day two." Ava fiddled with the pen in her free hand. Her jaw clenched, despite her attempts to redirect her emotions to a less visible outlet.

"True, but we all know that days to the two of you mean something much longer and more complex than it does for the rest of the human population," Zari said with a smile and Ava was drawn to the hopeful and bright and alive tone. Someone needed to believe because she was finding it difficult. So, she clung to the faith Zari had that this would be okay, would eventually correct itself. "She fell so hard for you that night at The Wave-Rider. If all it took was a two-minute exchange at a bar, I can only imagine the possibilities that exist if she already has fifteen years under her belt."

Raising her head, their eyes locked and Ava offered a weak raise of her lips, cursing being a rational, logically minded person, always considering outcome probabilities in precise statistical terms. This situation would be more manageable if she could be more like Zari: cautiously hopeful and willing to bet on her gut instead of reason.

"Did you come here just for food and to give me a pep talk, or did you need something," she finally asked, pulling away from Zari and sitting straight in her chair.

"Pep talk, mainly. How'd I do?"

"7.2," she mused, reaching for the brown bag and emptying its contents on the small open space on the desk. It was generally unwise, she found, to feel heavy things on an empty stomach.

"I'll take it. Enjoy your lunch and make sure to feel things," Zari said, emphasizing the statement by stealing a stock of broccoli and quickly retreating out of arm's length.

"Hey!"

"Shock, frustration, hunger. This is good. You're doing great. Keep that up." Reaching the doorframe, she stopped on the threshold and looked back, catching the director's attention. "I'm here for you, too, Ava. That's really what I came to say. Don't feel like you have to take it all on by yourself. You matter in this situation as much as she does."

* * *

In a flush of relief, The Wave-Rider looked eerily the same. The neon sign that hung inside the front window was new but still managed to be not quite bright enough. Roof tiles checkered the same pattern of patchwork fixes. The parking lot appeared as though it had been redone, albeit poorly, though she wasn't sure what else she should expect. The once paint chipped black brick was now dark wood panels that Sara knew Mick must have put up a fight about. Amaya made her way to the door, opening it with a familiar creak though the door itself was new, and Sara followed her in, still processing the information that she and Mick worked together. They were business partners, apparently. Once fully inside, Sara noticed the stools by the bar hadn't been replaced in the last fifteen years.

"Are you sure we own equal parts of this place?"

"Actually, Mick owns 51% of it. It was going to be an even split, but you crossed a line when you asked him to include craft beers on the menu."

"I see. And how exactly did I come to own the other 49% of it?"

"It's fairly simple, really. Your downtown project finished, and you quit, took a sabbatical of sorts. When you resurfaced, Mick had worked himself into a mess. He could barely keep the lights on. You caught wind of it, walked in just before closing one morning and told him you were going to help him fix it. I think he was too tired to argue."

"Were we also too tired to buy new furniture? Some of this is well over thirty years old by now."

"That was the other part of his accepting your help," Amaya said with a smile. "He got to keep all of this exactly like it is, and you got the renovation. Come on. The Wave-Rider probably down there. He refuses to admit it, but he likes it more than the original."

She followed Amaya around the bar to a narrow hallway just past the bathroom. A semi-transparent arrow pointed to the right and led her down one flight of curved stairs to an otherwise bland door that had the word "Basement" etched neatly in the middle. It wasn't an overly clever name she noted, but that thought quickly vanished when she moved past Amaya to see an expansive space with a midnight black ceiling framed in a faded red trim. To her right, couches created semi-private areas, and a corner section held two recliners. There were high top tables with plush, high back stools and a sunken area in the middle of the floor with seating for at least twenty people. None of the furniture matched but the room felt seamless and inviting. However, what caught her attention was the chalkboard behind the bar.

_ Monthly Cause: _

_ Central City Domestic Services _

Beneath the simple script hung a poster size space with pictures of Sara and at least three dozen groups of people in the park, at an ice-skating rink, a carnival, an amphitheater with a movie she didn't recognize in the background and locations she didn't immediately know. Ava and Zach were present in several of them, huddled around Sara with smiles formed from pride, and she couldn't swallow hard enough to control her emotions until Amaya slowly made her way to Sara's side, crossing her arms and nudging the suddenly still woman.

"This place is one of the most successful establishments in the city, but you hardly see a dime of the profits past what Mick needs to cover expenses. You traded changing everyday lives for simply changing lives."

"Is this why you wanted to meet here?"

"Partially," Amaya admitted, her shoulder still holding firm against Sara's. "I wanted you to see that the life you have here is important and meaningful and something you should be proud of, apart from your family.

People can't come to the city and not be told to go to this place. As a result, the local and tourist economies donate tens of thousands of dollars to the women, children, families, and education, anything that you can find or that comes across your lap. You are a good person, Sara. Remember that when you start doubting yourself and the life you have. You deserve as much good and happiness you can get your hands on."

Sara reached out and took Amaya's hand in hers, squeezing her appreciation. They stood in relative silence while Sara scanned each picture, each postcard and holiday card and, to her surprise, birthday party invitation. There was an all-consuming awareness that despite her spearheading the endeavor, she would have needed to be unnaturally steady in her life for this undertaking to succeed. There was an equally imposing thought that she could not have done this without a partner, a family, to support her while she helped others.

Amaya returned the pressure in her hand, and to Sara's relief, allowed her a break from her thoughts when she motioned behind them toward the back corner partially hidden by a bookshelf.

"Also, I told you he would be back here."

Sara glanced over her shoulder, needing to turn fully to take in the view. Lounging comfortably with several empty bottles within arm's reach, Mick was snoring. She released Amaya's hand with a knowing look and walked over to pat his leg a few times before he stirred.

"Are we open yet?" His eyes popped open, and the bottle in his hand clashed violently with the floor, startling him more than Sara who rolled her eyes with a huff.

"Not yet. It's one in the afternoon."

"Then why are you waking me up," he practically barked.

"Because you can't sleep your life away," she countered, one hand on the armrest, using the other to lower the footrest, unceremoniously forcing him to sit upright. "You apparently have to help me run this place."

"Your lady said you weren't coming in today. It was almost a good day." He didn't attempt to hide his continued annoyance at being woken up.

"I'm just catching her up on some things, Mick. We aren't staying long."

"I would actually like to stay," Sara corrected, gaining a surprised look from Amaya. "Doc did say I need to go back to as much normalcy as I could handle."

"Great," Mick grinned victoriously. "You open up and I'll go back to sleep."

"Oh no, you're not." Sara grabbed his arm, holding it until he stood up. "Let's go. You have to catch me up on the state of the company."

* * *

By the time Ava left the office, the wind had begun to pick up, and the lack of sun accented the cold air. Buttoning her jacket fully, she turned down the street in the direction of Zachary's school. Usually, he would have met her before five, so practice must have run long. She didn't mind the time alone though, and the walk would probably do her good. Reaching the end of the block, she pushed the crossing button and waited for the light to change and let out a long deep breath that instantly calmed her. For a Monday, it had felt exorbitantly long, and she was looking forward to putting her feet up and finishing the wine bottle from the night before.

When the light ushered her across the street, she saw a semi-illuminated figure a few blocks ahead of her that looked oddly like her son walking with a taller figure who had his arm draped on his shoulders. It took a few more steps and the help of a street lamp before she saw the glisten of hair and swaggered stride of Nate. She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling. Naturally, it was at the moment her son caught sight of her.

"Momma! Hey! Look who I found."

"I see that," she replied, directing her attention to the older man as they met. "Should I expect a visit from all of you before the day is over?"

"Don't know. I didn't even know I was coming until I intercepted this scoundrel on the street. He told me the plan, and I figured we could save you some time." He made a half-hearted show of the white take out bag in his hands.

"Between you and Zari, you'd think I can't feed myself."

"Uncle Nate got me an extra serving," Zach interrupted with little concern, reaching for the bag to verify his claim. "We got them extra spicy!"

"Of course, he did. And this is why he doesn't watch you anymore."

"That time was an accident. I thought we'd moved past that."

"I still have tension headaches about the medical bills, Nate. We will move past that when you have kids." She mouthed payback with a tight smile that he returned in resignation.

"Despite that unnecessary threat and because I am a good friend and person, I am still going to offer my services to escort you home. I've got to go that way anyway." He extended his arm as Zach began to walk toward the apartment. With a hint of appreciation, she wrapped her arm around his and matched his pace.

They made it two blocks before Ava's mind wandered, Nate only noticing when she nearly walked into the street without the proper signalized instruction. He waited until they were safely on the other side before he spoke his voice low and controlled, overly careful not to chance Zachary hearing them.

"We talked a little before we ran into you. He's got a lot of questions." Ava's grip loosened largely without her knowledge. Her instinct to retreat, shrink back into herself and process internally was overpowering. She felt herself pulling away until Nate grabbed her hand and held it in the crook of his elbow, forcing her attention on him. "We don't have to talk about it. I just wanted you to know that I told him answering was way above Uncle status."

He released her hand, waiting for her to decide how the next step would go. Zachary, well ahead of them and almost to their street corner, was utterly oblivious they had stopped and had the distance between them not increased so rapidly, Ava was liable to have not noticed.

"No. You're fine," she said, waving him off as she brought herself back to his statement and the situation at hand. Replacing her hand around his arm, they started moving again. "It's just been a long day. How do you even begin to explain this? It's insane. I haven't even made sense of it yet."

"I mean, let's be honest Ava. Did you really think a life with Sara would be boring or easy? If you think about it, she's only holding up her end of the deal." When she held on a little tighter, he knew had done something right and the genuine laugh he pulled from her became the main accomplishment of his day. He was almost disappointed when he finally saw the steps of the porch come into view.

"You know," he began as they crossed the last street. "Most kids just want to know they are loved. He's trying to understand if the love is still there. You don't have all the answers, Ava, and that's okay. You've got a lot of love, and you can work with that."

"You're a good man, Nate."

"It's why I'm your favorite." Ava opened her mouth to respond, only to find a finger hovering in front of her lips. "Eh! Don't do it. Don't ruin the moment. Just accept it."

Ava rolled her eyes half-heartedly and chuckled. Leaning in toward him, she kissed his cheek and offered a quiet thank you. He gave a weak smile and waited until she was inside before he continued down the street. She wouldn't tell anyone, but he was her favorite.

* * *

In the back corner of the full space, four people sat with one open chair that Sara knew was for her. They all looked older but by the sound of the conversation not necessarily wiser. By the time she pulled herself away from the bar and made her way toward them, Ray and Zari were sparing over the correct use of a specific subset of copper wiring that hadn't been used in half a century at least. Zari's hair was longer, still curly but less tamed. Ray had an air around him that screamed incoming dad joke, and it made Sara wonder if any of them had families too. Her hesitancy to ask stemmed entirely from not wanting to be the woman who forgot, just for a few hours. Of course, like nearly all of her plans, impulse took control when she saw the light reflect off the silver band Ray wore.

"You're married, Ray."

"Yep," he grinned broadly, to a degree only he could achieve. He looked genuinely happy. "Going on eight years."

"Nine years," Zari corrected in a tone that betrayed how often this conversation occurred. "I don't know how you always get this wrong."

"I think I know my own wedding date."

Sara watched them trade comments wrapped in friendly banter as they talked through the past decade. Zari still scrunched her eyebrows when Ray said something particularly offbeat. Ray was, in general, oblivious to whether anyone was actively listening; his level of contentment had no bearing on anyone else, and Sara envied that about him.

Zari issued a table-wide poll involving something in Berlin that Sara didn't catch, and she claimed victory by a three to one margin. It was clear that Ray still disagreed, but he did so with a smile, and a thought crossed Sara's Mind that wasn't entirely implausible, though it would be mildly surprising.

"Did you marry each other," she asked, the entire table turned to stare at her. It was evident that they had been asked this before because Ray slunk back in his chair, Zari looked incredulously at Sara, Nate focused his eyes anywhere but at them, and Amaya maintained her patented look of understanding and amusement.

"We are absolutely not married." Zari's responded through gritted teeth, though her tone managed to be gentle. "No offense, Ray."

"None taken. Though I would argue that you are my work-wife."

"Oh geez. Not this again," she sighed, resting her head on the back of the chair, all thoughts of being civil now a glaring regret as Ray continued.

"Most people have them whether they are aware or not. Studies have shown time and time again that having a work spouse can significantly increase a person's happiness, productivity..."

"And professional growth," the table finished for him with a raise of their glasses.

"Yeah, Ray, we know," Nate assured as he patted Ray on the back in support. "You tell us at least once a..."

"Wait," Sara blurted out, stopping the conversation in its tracks. "Does that mean Mick is mine?"

As though a string tethered them together, five heads turned toward the bar in time to see him wiping something on his shirt and letting out a small but apparently satisfying belch. Sara turned to Amaya who shrugged reluctantly with an apologetic grin.

"Well, this just keeps getting better."

* * *

The apartment was dark save the lamp light visible from the bottom of the bedroom door. Tiptoeing through the living room, Sara made her way to the door and quickly entered in an attempt not to flood the apartment with light. She tossed her jacket on the dresser and flopped lazily on the bed, wiggling around until she had enough of the blanket free to partially cover her. She buried her face in the pillow and reached to turn off the light. As her hand searched for the switch, she felt the familiar texture of paper beneath her fingers.

_ Hope you had a good night. Mick mentioned in an animated voice-mail that you looked just fine to him. Helpful as always, that man. Don't worry about getting up early if you want to sleep in. Mornings are rushed anyway. I would rather you get some rest. We are happy to give you some space until tomorrow evening. _

_ Good night, Sara. _

She wondered if their entire marriage was just a string of non-verbal communication schemes. It was eerily intimate and maddeningly annoying.  She enjoyed her time alone, but it seemed excessively prevalent in this two-day relationship for reasons she understood, their work hours directly conflicted, but didn't agree with because there were always ways around it . Out of nothing more than defiance, she set her alarm to be awake before they left in the morning. She was determined to see them.

* * *

Fifty-seven minutes late. Sara's alarm had been set, she had been prepared to accept the early morning, and she managed to ruin it. Scaling hot water hit her back in a half-hearted attempt to ease the tension in her shoulders because everything felt different standing there surrounded by nothing but her own thoughts. The worst of it was she knew Ava wouldn't be mad about not seeing her because she had told her not to wake up. It didn't lessen the disappointment that surfaced when Sara realized she would have to wait another day to see them. The desire to talk to them welled up in her stomach, and the lack of explanation for the feeling was muted by its presence.

Switching off the faucet, she stepped out of the shower, dried herself off and reluctantly decided to accept her losses for the day. It would likely be more comfortable for them to stick to the schedule: miss them, work, sleep, repeat.

She tried to pretend it didn't cause her heart to sink into her stomach.

* * *

For reasons Ava couldn't pinpoint but was grateful for nonetheless, her day had flown by. Zach was waiting for her when she walked out of the office and everything about their evening had been typical. Everything except the full head of hair that rested on her leg.

Zach had been watching some documentary defining the ten greatest weapon inventions in history when his breathing steadied to a slumbered pace. He had grown out of cuddling his mothers a few years ago, so when he initiated halfway through the list, Ava knew Nate had been right. It was also her hope that he would talk to her when he was ready because she didn't have enough answers to push him into the conversation. So, for now, she was going to enjoy having him close.

Running her fingers through his hair, she managed to turn the page of her book with one hand when the glow from her phone drew her attention away. The name on the screen had her nearly dropping her book on the floor to reach it but not move her son. When she accepted the call, the undeniable sound of The Wave-Rider screamed through the phone, ushering her into a frustrated, shouting Sara.

"Do not put that there, Mick. What is wrong with you? God, it's like you've never sliced a lemon before."

"Look, lady. That's part of your 49%."

"You're going to have 49% of a hand if you keep it up." The soft chuckle in her ear brought Sara back to the phone resting on her shoulder.  "Ava, are you there?"

"You don't have to yell, Sara," she said in a hushed tone, thankful Zach didn't stir, and his breathing remained steady.

"Sorry," she said softer, moving to the storage room and half shutting the door, keeping an eye on Mick. "Sorry, is that better? Also, why are we whispering?"

"Zach's asleep next to me," Ava cooed, her tone catching them both by surprise. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to give you a heads up. I might not be home until much later than scheduled. It's pretty crazy here tonight."

"I can hear that. Do you have the big guy stocking the bar?"

"Apparently this is a new thing, and I'm a little mad at future me for not training him better."

"Well, you clearly aren't missing much here. Though I think you would have enjoyed the weapons documentary we watched."

The line went quiet as Sara weighed her next words carefully. There was a fine line the two of them needed to exist along for the time being, and she wasn't sure what side of that line she was on, but she figured honesty was the best course of action.

"Is there any chance you'll be awake when I get home?" Ava didn't miss the hesitancy in the words or the hopefulness in the tone.

"That is heavily dependent on when you get here. Why?"

"I don't know." Neither woman believed that, so Ava leaned back further into the cushion, prepared to wait for Sara to decide for herself if and how she would continue. She was happy to classify the phone call as progress regardless of how the rest of the conversation went. To her surprise, Sara's voice came through clear and certain. "I felt bad about not being awake this morning. I had every intention to be."

"Sara., it's not unreasonable to want to rest."

"Yes. But I also kind of wanted to see you."

While there was no doubt Ava had heard correctly, she was cautious not to read into the statement. Sara was still frantically trying to figure out this life she woke up to and seeing the person you married would be a natural starting point. Ava forced herself to remember that their life together was not how it used to be and that even if the timing did work in their favor, she could not afford to be hopeful that merely seeing each other would magically fix anything. Still, she was willing to lose some sleep just in case it did.

"Let me know when you're heading back."

* * *

Ava was sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging over the armrest, the other tucked deep into the cushions when Sara made it home just before one o'clock. Both of her arms wrapped in the blanket, she held it tightly under her chin and Sara could find no other word to describe the scene other than adorable. The house was quiet, the night was still, and Sara had a tingling in her stomach that started in her chest and found her staring longer than she felt she had a right. With slight disappointment, she covered Ava's exposed leg with the blanket, whispering a soft goodnight before reaching for the lamp on the side table. The click of the switch caused Ava to stir, her eyes blinking quickly, pushing the sleep away.

"Hey, you're home."

"Go back to sleep, Ava. We can talk tomorrow."

"No. I'm awake. I was just resting my eyes," she yawned, pulling a soft grin from Sara who was looking at her like Ava was a puzzle she didn't have all the pieces for but wanted to finish. Ava wasn't sure what she was supposed to do but staring at Sara in the dim glow of night was certainly not going to end well. Without thinking, she reached out to touch Sara's temple, but retracted midair, settling for pointing half-heartedly.

"What's going on in there," Ava asked.

"Well..." Sara's hands wringing in her lap, her body redistributing weight on the coffee table, restlessly because while she had asked for this conversation, she hadn't thought past beginning it. "I've been thinking. Gideon said we should treat each other normally and I don't have the slightest idea what that means, and it's only been three days, but I can't imagine this as normal, even for us."

"What do you mean?" Ava's demeanor changed so abruptly, Sara could sense the shift from restraint to deep seeded concern from across the couch, and in that split second, her own emotions jumped from fear of screwing up to restrained frustration. It felt safe to express it, though.

"I have seen and lived the schedule, and we constantly miss each other. You leave before I wake up, and I get home after you're asleep nearly every day. That's what's slated for tomorrow and the day after. So, I see you what, for Sunday evening wine?"

"You have a job. I have a job. We have lives outside of our marriage. We don't need to be attached at the hip to have a functioning relationship."

"Yeah but every day? Is every day like this? Do we exist in a never-ending chain of text messages and nightstand notes? Did we get married and then decide we didn't want to see each other anymore?"

"You and I have always functioned better with a bit of scheduled space."

"There has to be a difference in scheduled space and effectively roommates though."  Sara's voice was more pleading than she intended, but she didn't care; it was honest, and she was open, and Ava wasn't leaving the couch. "I don't feel like I'm able to give this whatever I'm supposed to because I'm trying so hard to stay on that damn schedule and be away when you both are used to it, but I don't know how to be in a relationship when the other person isn't present. I simultaneously need you to be around and as far away as possible, and I don't know what to do with that."

Ava opened and closed her mouth several times in the span of a few seconds, wanting to respond, but finding the words difficult to form. Their life was patterned, practiced, and ingrained and she had forgotten the years it took them to reach a point where it was routine. In the rush of Sunday's events, she had forgotten the fights and the disagreements they worked through to arrive at this point. Mainly, she could see Sara's fear that with the current arrangement, she would never catch up on them or their lives.

"Sara, look at me," Ava said gently, forgoing reservation and reaching for Sara's hand, pulling them into her lap. "Neither of us knew how to do this when we first got married. This routine is something we have learned over the years. I'm sorry I wasn't more sensitive to the confusion you may have, this is new for me too. What do you need from me? How can I help?"

"I don't know...it just feels like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Given the circumstances, I don't see how things changing suddenly wouldn't be a concern of mine," she countered with a soft chuckle, an attempt to keep the conversation from becoming heavier than Sara could handle. "However, this situation changes our normal, doesn't it? Whatever that's even supposed to mean or whatever it was. So, it will change how you and I interact, how we handle our son. I shouldn't assume that you're the same woman you were last week. That's not fair to either of us."

"I'm just trying to keep your lives as normal as possible."

The small smile Ava offered was mirrored as Sara exhaled, averting her eyes from a look of tenderness and understanding, she couldn’t handle. She was aware she hadn't released the hand holding hers, and she was more aware that she didn't have a desire to let go.

"Okay. New house rule. We aren't allowed to say the word normal again. Okay," she asked, searching Sara's eyes for confirmation. "There is no pressure, no expectation, no schedules. You don't have to try to fit into a box, Sara. But you need to tell me when you need something, just like you did tonight. Tell me when something is too much. I can't read your mind."

"Okay." Sara nodded and glanced at the clock at the wall, guilt settling in her stomach only partially outweighed by the entirely selfish notion that she would ask her to wait up again if it meant seeing her. "I'll let you get back to sleep. Thanks for waiting up for me."

"It's always worth it."

When Sara was safely behind the closed door of the bedroom, the sleep she fell into was comfortable and deep, draped in a blanket of security and steadiness this life provided.

* * *

They arrived later than Sara would have assumed. It was nearly nine o'clock when the key finally turned the lock. Turning off the television, Sara rose to meet them, unsure what the protocol was for welcoming someone home. Her heart stammered more forcefully than she was comfortable with as book bags hit the floor and heels with placed gracefully by the door.

"Don't leave your bag there."

"I'll get it later," came the response that contained more force and finality than Sara thought the boy capable. When he turned the corner to the living room, Sara saw eyes that reflected ones she had seen hundreds of times in the mirror. They strained to hold back tears from trying to hold together more than the body could contain. Without a word of acknowledgment, he stormed past her, slamming the balcony door as a blast of cold air pulled goosebumps from Sara's skin.

Ava came into view moments later with a weak smile, rubbing the back of her neck. She exhaled roughly, like she had either been crying or yelling, neither option something Sara felt equipped to handle.

"So much for a nice night together."

"Welcome to parenthood."

"Is he okay?"

"It was a long walk home. His anger I can handle. When he's like this, I'm largely useless. But, if you aren't feeling up to going out there, I can try."

"No," Sara stated, raising her hand to deter Ava from fighting her. In ways she wasn't ready to discuss, she had a fairly good idea of how to handle him and it wasn't Ava's problem to fix. "No, I'd like to try."

* * *

"Rough day?"

"It's nothing." He deflected, fidgeting with his jacket hood string, his head hung low. The winter air whipped around them and she suddenly wished she had the forethought to grab a jacket of her own. But, she refused to leave now that was sitting next to him. She wasn't entirely sure he would be there when she came back. It wasn't a risk she was willing to take.

Car horns blared, glass hit the bottom of the recycle bins, and people talked animatedly on the street below them. Window lights turned off, and Sara found reason to envy them. Those people didn't lose years of their life. Those people didn't have a wife they don't remember, no matter how much they wanted to, and those people didn't have a son who was having a bad day they couldn't help fix. Folding her hands to keep warm, she talked mainly at them when we finally found the words.

"Listen, kid, with how my week is going who knows if I'll remember tomorrow. So, if it turns into something I'm here for the next three hours and twenty-seven minutes," Sara said offhandedly, making a small show of checking her watch. "Nope, sorry make that three hours and twenty-six minutes. After that, you run the risk of me remembering for a full twenty-four hours. Your call."

"I miss you," he said quickly and quietly, pulling her attention to the boy. His ability to look so small pulled her heart into her throat. "It's been four days, and I know it's not your fault, I don't blame you or anything. I just miss you, you know?"

"I wish I did."

"Momma said we should just give it time, and maybe you'll remember, and we'll go back to how things were, but what if you don't? What if it's never the same again?"

"I don't know how to answer that," she said. He was looking for a mom, someone to help ease his pain, lend a shoulder, and help him navigate his life, but Sara couldn't provide any of that. The only course of action she knew to take was the truth. "But I can say with that not remembering you is painful for me."

Sara looked down at her hands, and her son dared to glance at her.

"Every time you call me mom I want to remember how I earned that name because you are so smart and quick on your feet and caring and I saw the trophies in the living room, someone clearly taught you martial arts."

"You did. When I was nine," he smiled. When he looked up and caught her eyes, she urged him silently to continue. "Momma went to a conference that week, and as soon as I got home from school you sat me down on the couch and told me that you were going to teach me the importance of stamina, determination, and strength of character," he listed animatedly. "I thought you were sending me to boot camp or something. Then, you threw a pair of shorts, gloves, and a water bottle at me and we went at it through the night. Momma found us on the couch the next afternoon out cold. I had missed a day of school, and you were two hours late for work."

"I wish I remembered that." Zachary's smile faded, seeing pain where he tried to apply comfort. Apparently, wanting to help had the prerequisite of knowing how and though she looked like her and sounded like her, this woman wasn't the mom he knew. She was different without her memories, and he was tentative to do or say anything wrong.

"If you want, I can tell you more stories," he tried hesitantly.  "I mean, I don't know if it'll help, but at least you can hear about the kick-ass mom you are."

"Don't let your momma hear that language," she teased with a nudge over his shoulder. "I may not know much about this, but I almost guarantee you she won't approve."

"Hey, you promised me you'd forget all of this three hours and seventeen minutes from now. I'm holding you to that." Sara knew he was teasing, but the comment stung, paralyzing her in fear. This boy with short, curly brown hair, dark eyes, and a crooked smile was not something she wanted to forget again. He must have seen her smile fall because he immediately reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.

"I don't mind telling them, again."

With that, Sara was determined to remember him. She was going to ingrain every moment this boy spent with her so deep into her mind that even if she forgot everything else he would still be there.

"You see this scar," he finally offered under the weight of her gaze, holding out his arm to show a long gash about an eighth of an inch wide. Sara scrunched her eyebrows in concern as she delicately ghosted her fingertips across it. "I got this when I was 12. You, Momma, and me had gone to the lake house with Uncle Nate and Aunt Amaya. I decided to build a diving platform. Momma and Aunt Amaya tried to stop it, but you and Uncle Nate wanted to help, so we went to the garage to find the tools. One of the boards in the attic was loose, and I fell through the ceiling and broke my arm in three places. We spent the rest of the trip in a hospital.  Momma was mad at you for a week."

"How about one where I don't piss your Momma off?"

"Oh, gosh." He thought for a minute, half-faking his effort to think of such a story. "I don't know if those exist."

Sara nudged him playfully but finding it difficult to disagree with him. The Ava she remembers would likely be in a perpetual state of frustration living with Sara. But, then, that Ava also married her.

"There's one," he offered, after a moment. "I was young, you had just adopted me, so I only know it happened because Momma told it to me. It involves us, the monster in my closet, and a superhero sock puppet."

Sara shifted in her seat to face her son, giving him permission to continue and preferably never stop.

* * *

Ava looked out on the balcony. Her son was making wild gestures, his facial expressions mimicking her and Sara's voices as he spoke, bringing to life their history. Sara was holding her sides from laughter, but her eyes never left the boy. Her entire being was focused on him as though if she dared to look away he would disappear, and all of this might be the dream she'd once hoped it would be.


	3. The Beginning, Again

"Can I still call you Mom?"

As far as alarms went, those words were highly effective, despite her heavy eyelids. Lifting her head to bring her clock into view, the glowing 6:27 did little to help the situation.

"Good Morning, Zach. How did you sleep? Good? Me too," she grunted, rubbing too hard on her eyes. When the room resurfaced through the haze, the warm sight of the young boy in his boxers leaning against the doorframe greeted her.

"Unicorns, huh?"

"You bought them."

"Was it meant to be a joke?"

"You're evading the question."

"I'm evading the morning." The shuffle of socks on carpet and the unmistakable dip in the bed told Sara the conversation was happening then, ready or not. "Can we talk about this at literally any other time? Preferably after coffee."

"I've got school, and I won't be back tonight. I'm staying at Mitch's for the weekend. It's on your calendar."

_ So now it is _ , she thought, giving in and situating herself so that she was leaning against the headboard, the boy spread diagonally across the bed, his face a mere meter away. His voice didn't betray him as his eyes did. They were pleading, but not hopeful and contained more maturity than a fourteen-year-old had a right to claim. Sara was sure he had learned that trait from Ava.

"That's a loaded question for this early in the morning, kid. I don't know if I have an answer yet."

"So, we have this beautiful evening together, laughing and getting to know each other and you still won't claim me," he winked. His voice was now light and oddly playful. There was a hint of something in his ability to deviate the tone without losing the sincerity, or urgency, of his question that was unsettling and entirely too familiar.

"Maybe it wasn't that good of a night for me."

"Figures. Can't get anyone to commit."

"You're fourteen. You shouldn't be committing to anything other than your school."

"Again. Looks like mom. Sounds like mom. Still not mom?"

"I'm working on it, kid." He nodded, accepting her effort as enough of an answer for the moment.

"Zachary!" Ava's voice bellowed from the kitchen, filling the apartment with too much life for far too early. "Let's go! If you are late again, they may give  _ me _ detention."

"You better get going. I remember your Momma was insultingly punctual. All the time."

"We haven't been on time to anything in years," he laughed. "She absolutely blames you for the 'unnecessary and entirely ineffective' impact you've had on the family."

"Zach!"

"I'm coming!"

With how heavily he rolled his eyes, Sara was impressed that the world didn't spin with him. He pushed himself off the bed, half-heartedly fixing the space he ruffled. He looked down, remembering in a sudden flash that he was still in his pajamas and rubbed his forehead with his hand. When his fingers reached the bridge of his nose, he threw his other hand up in defeat.  _ Impulsive actions and half-thought-out plans _ , Sara thought to herself before she could stop.  _ Now, that he got from me. _

"I'll see you in a few days. Though, I guess this means I win the bet," he said quickly, his words matching the pace of his feet back to the doorframe. The words were out before she could process them, her brain still attempting to understand the past nine minutes.

"What bet?"

"I guess I  _ will _ love you longer."

"Zachary William! I have places to be, young man." Ava appeared at the door, her glare fixed on her son and his lack of clothing. He made a show of half raising his hand with a brief smile as he disappeared behind the door, muttering inaudible words as he returned to his room.

"I'm sorry if he woke you up." Ava moved to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed holding a thermos in her hand.

"It's part of parenthood, right?"

"The less flattering part," Ava offered lightly.

"He's a good kid. I don't mind that much." They fell into a comfortable silence Sara was beginning to understand was okay. Ava took a long sip of coffee, and Sara tried and failed to stifle a yawn. Wiping the remaining sleep from her eyes, she sunk back into the bed and fiddled with her hands. "Uh, by the way, thank you for not getting on to him about last night. I know we were up late."

"You don't have to thank me for spending time with your son, Sara. He had a bad day, and you've had a long week. You needed each other." She left no room for an argument which Sara was thankful for; her brain hadn't fully woken up yet and, though she had no idea what to do with the information, the only part of the morning that fully registered was unicorns.

"Did I really buy him those boxers?"

"Oh yeah," Ava grimaced. "That was all you."

"It was a joke, right?"

"It was hard to tell, actually."

"Can we make them mysteriously disappear?"

"Tried. They always come back." Sara groaned, and Ava eyed her through her eyelashes, careful to not be caught taking in the familiar sight or reading too much into the ease of the exchange.

"Mom!" Zach yelled from what sounded like the entryway with a forcefully shut of the coat closet. "We're going to be late! What's the holdup? Let's go!"

"He gets this from you. I hope you know that," Ava gently accused, rolling her eyes with a smile and a huff. She threw her hands up in surrender and Sara couldn't help but notice was a mirror image of their son.

By 6:45 a.m., the apartment was silent again, the last waves of sound from the people who inhabited it had dissipated into a loop in Sara's mind. There was a comfortable weight in her gut that began to build with wine and hero sock puppets that had barreled out of control with unicorn boxer shorts. It was overwhelming; it was entirely possible to need something you didn't know you wanted. The intensity of it outweighed her body's desire to close her eyes. She wondered if that was how she felt nine years before when they adopted him and sometime before then when she fell for Ava because there was no way a feeling that strong was new.

* * *

The cafeteria was more crowded than usual. Zachary wondered how, with a steady number of students each day, the room seemed to feel perpetually smaller. He managed to slip through the mob-like crowd to his usual table, already full of people. He would have to settle for standing behind them, again.

Placing his bag on the floor, he felt his phone buzz to a familiar rhythm that nearly had him tripping over himself to set his tray down. Pushing his friend's belongings aside, he made quick work of freeing his hands and reaching in his back pocket.

"Got a lady you aren't telling us about, Z?"

"It's my mom," he replied with little care, and his words immediately disinterested the table who all went back to talking too loudly and eating too quickly.

_ Mom: Bet is still on if you're bold enough to accept it. _

His fingers shook as they hovered over the screen. He chuckled softly as the weight of his world vanished. His heartbeat matched the speed of his reply.

_Z. Lance: Lance's never go quietly._   
_Z. Lance: You're on._

The smile he boasted was wider than he could remember forming and he didn't make any effort to contain it.

"What's got you giddy?"

"Nothing, man," he answered off-handedly, putting his phone back in his pocket and picking up his fork with a smirk. "My mom is just placing bets she can't win again."

* * *

Light flooded the conference room illuminating the schematic roll Zari needed to review. The interns had worked tirelessly, not that it showed in the final product. Two hours ago, she had rolled up her sleeves and pulled her hair back. An hour ago, she added two different colors to the red that neared the end of its life, and twenty minutes ago she contemplated whether having one drink at work was worth the risk. Slumping back into her chair, she was almost relieved when her phone light caught her attention.

"Some of us still work during the daylights hours, Sara."

"I know, but I need you to talk through something with me."

"If this is about Ava or your son, I am going to insist before you start that you go talk directly to them."

"It is, and I am on my way there now. Just need to get my thoughts together."

"All right. Lay it on me." Zari dropped her pens and ran her hand down her face with more force than intended. She placed the phone on the desk, allowing Sara's voice to fill the otherwise silent room as her eyes continued to scan the document before her, genuinely surprised at the ignorance seemingly qualified people could produce.

Through the car horns, random blurts of other conversations, and the occasional gust of wind, Sara's spoke in rapid spurts, and Zari attempted to catch any portion she could. There was something about Ava waiting up for her and boxer shorts, though she guessed they were unrelated. There was something about freezing on the balcony and a deal Zach made with her. There was a fragment of a sentence about holding hands and there was, more importantly to Zari, not a single word, sentence, or tone that suggested Sara was unhappy with any of it.

"So, there is nothing wrong, and she's a wonderful partner to you, and I’m still hearing about it," Zari cut in when Sara took a breath to yell obscenities at some unfortunate driver.

"It's so much more of everything than I thought I'd have. I don't know what to do with it all, and I don't want to ruin anything because she's kind and attentive without hovering and patient and..."

"Yours," Zari interjected with a heavy sigh. "She's yours. I know it's new to you and you're still figuring yourself out here, but that woman is in love with you, Sara: maddeningly, disgustingly, unapologetically in love with you. You've had her since the day she met you. If that's not clear to you by now, I don't know how to help. You'll just have to give it time. It's never been about deserving it or understanding it. Good things happen to good people, and your family is a good thing. But it's your choice: this life, Ava, your son. You just have to make it again."

The excess noise on the other line vanished, leaving Zari to only know Sara hadn't hung up by someone else offering a good morning which Sara returned before the ding of the elevator sounded as it closed. When Sara spoke again, the rapidness of her early conversation was gone, and there were traces of nervous apprehension and uncertainty.

"I'm just making it up as I go and for once that feels like the wrong thing to do."

"We are all just making it up as we go." Her voice softer and more patient than before because Zari was willing to bet her paycheck that Sara was currently six floors below Ava's office. "There isn't a manual for things like this."

"Yeah and when it was just me that didn't matter, but now there are two other people involved, and I should have a better handle on this, but I can't shake the feeling that all of my relationships end badly."

"You care, Sara. No matter the magnitude, maybe right now, that's all she needs to know."

* * *

The lack of blinding white walls was immediately noticeable as the elevator doors opened and Sara entered the Strategic Planning office. The tile had replaced the patterned brown carpet and provided a sharp contrast to the soothing blue atmosphere. To her right, newspaper articles lined the bookshelf each commenting on the innovations the office had brought to the community. A front-page showed her entire design team beaming next to Gary at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. In the middle, she and Ava held a pair comically large scissors in their hands as Sara rested a young Zach on her hip.

_ Legendary Designs, LLC and City Planning Staff Attend Grand Opening of Hyperloop. _

Another proclaimed:  _ Two Years After Renovation, Economy 7% Above Projections. _

An article to the right read:  _ City to Extend Strategic Planning Director Contract Citing Success of Downtown Renovation. _

It dawned on her that Ava was likely not behind the public displays of achievement. The modern silver frames, lack of dust, and alignment directed toward a minimal desk suggested that Gary alerted anyone who entered the importance of their jobs and his pride in working with Ava. On the middle shelf, just next to the notice of budget approval for an overhaul of city parks, a small black frame held a summary article alerting the city that Gary was promoted from the Director's Secretary to Strategic Information Liaison. Since that wasn't a position that existed in any other hierarchical system of public government, she guessed that Ava wanted Gary to know how important he was to their apparently wild success.

"Sara! Hi!" Gary's tone was impossibly light and welcoming, and it matched his still impressively wide, genuine smile. "I didn't see you on Director Sharpe's calendar. Is she expecting you?"

"Uh, no," Sara said, taking a moment to compose herself and slow her heart rate, her eyes shifting from Gary to the articles she hadn't skimmed through yet. He didn't appear to know anything of their situation for which Sara was immeasurably grateful. There was no doubt he would be supportive and helpful, but she was also certain that the level of both would be too much to handle. "No, I just wanted to stop by. Can you see if she has a minute?"

"Of course," he smiled, grabbing the receiver and dialing the four-number extension. As it rang, he gave Sara several independently formed grins. He appeared ready to engage her in conversation when Ava picked up the phone. His responses were fragmented and rushed. "Yes ma'am, I do remember. No... I understand...it's just that...yes...mhmm...Well, Sara is here... I tried but you started talking, and I've been working on not interrupting you... Yes, I will send her in."

He hung up and took a moment to adjust his sweater to cover his belt and straighten the tie beneath it before turning back to Sara, finding her with one eyebrow raised in amusement. Taking the half step to get around his desk, no doubt to escort her to the office, Sara raised a hand to stop him. She could find it, and she was sure she did not want an audience. Making the long walk down the hallway, her steps quickened until she stopped at the wall placard that read Ava Sharpe.

Her hand reached for the doorknob but thought better of it, settling for a handful of confident knocks. The muffled permission to enter came instantly. Opening the door, she found Ava already halfway to the door before she had a chance to take a step.

"Hey, you." Ava's entire demeanor was soft and inviting. She moved toward Sara in a fluid, practiced motion but stopped short. Her smile didn't falter, but Sara noticed how Ava's hand suddenly flew behind her back, clasped tightly together. "I didn't know you were coming."

"I want to have dinner tonight," Sara blurted out, not leaving time for nerves to set in, or reason to surface, or the unsettling in her stomach to retreat.

"As opposed to every other night when it's merely second lunch."

"I mean with you. And me, of course. You and me and dinner. Tonight." Ava, to her credit, didn't show any sign of surprise, though Sara would bet there was more there than sand in the Sahara. The start of a smile vanished as quickly as it came, and Ava seemed to scan Sara's eyes for any sense of retreat but found none. When she finally responded, it was with far too much control and elegance.

"Are you asking me on a date?" Sara nodded lamely, not trusting her voice to react appropriately. "Of course. Yes."

"Good." Sara's hands found the back pockets of her jeans as they stood a few feet from each other. She was unsure of her next steps because Ava looked at her with a joy that radiated, and Sara didn't know how, but the room was a shade brighter than before. But, she wasn't prepared to deal with the other woman's contentment to merely stare at her and smile, so she stammered through her words instead of leaving.

"I'm going to go now. I'll pick you up at 5:30."

With a curt nod and an awkward moment of almost extending her hand, Sara turned toward the door but stopped dead in her tracks when she felt Ava grab her arm. In the time it took her to process how the action had left a warm handprint that caused the mayhem in the pit of her stomach to nearly boil over, Ava had moved back behind her desk and picked up her phone.

"I can do better than that," she explained with a tight smile. She punched four worn digits in the receiver, not hiding her impatience. "Gary, cancel the rest of my day...Yes, I know I have a meeting, hence the need to cancel it...It doesn't matter what I'm doing. Tell them I'm going home to spend time with my family...Yes; I am aware of where my son is...you know what Gary, just do it."

With the phone back in place, Ava hastily straightened her desk, clicking several times on her computer, and checking for her cellphone and billfold before looking back to Sara who had moved to lean on the doorframe, one eyebrow raised. Ava couldn't tell if it was out of shock or pride or intrigue, but Sara hadn't tried to fight her. Sara asked for more time together, and Ava was going to give that to her; the city would still need to be planned on Monday. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the door and placed her hand on the small of Sara's back, directing her out of the office. Her hand lingered longer than necessary, and Sara wondered if every place the woman touched would leave a mark.

"What are we going to do until 5:30," Sara managed to ask once they were in the elevator. Ava hit the button for the lobby and considered the question for a moment. It was evident in her hesitancy that she hadn't thoroughly thought this out through the lack of a plan didn't appear to bother the woman the way Sara imagined it would.

With a small shrug, Ava said, "Well, have you eaten first lunch yet?"

* * *

"Why did you let me eat that last taco," Sara groaned. The winter air swirled around her as she led Ava out onto the street, waiting for her to hold the door for another couple before they matched pace.

"In my defense, I did tell you not to."

"It would have been a crime to leave it," Sara shot back, her mind and stomach waring over the intelligence of that decision. Ava puts her hands up in surrender before stuffing them back into her coat pockets.

As they waited for the light to usher them across the street, Sara took in how the city had changed but remained nearly the same. While the main square was reconstructed in the time she lost, a fair amount of the original buildings still stood. She imagined that was part of the articles she read in Ava's office. The buildings that remained were restored to nearly new condition, and the park that surrounded the courthouse in the center of the square was alive with people. Some were jogging, others watched their children play, and some walked arm in arm huddled together against the cold.

When they crossed the street, Sara caught sight of the old bank on the corner, but the space in front grabbed her attention. The sidewalks now had openings to tunnels and the words "Hyperloop" above pristine white arrows that pointed down.

"It's only for out of city travel," Ava said, noticing Sara's interest. "We ran out of funds to construct an inner-city system, but it's a start."

"Is it still a work in progress?"

"It's an on and off relationship," she mused. "People don't mind being able to leave quickly or get home quickly, but they didn't want to lose the feel of a town most of them were born in and never left. We've had enough public meetings to last me well into the next life."

"I can't believe I didn't notice any of this until now."

Sara hadn't stopped to consider that in the years she'd forgotten the world kept turning, things kept changing, and innovations like the ones she used to pride herself on were all likely established if not outdated. She wasn't sure anymore if she was bouncing to keep warm or out of excitement.

"You've been a little preoccupied. I think it's understandable."

A wave of people exited the tunnel, carrying bags and briefcases, lunch pails and backpacks. There was a family with hyperactive children excited by the tall buildings and large, colorful billboards. A slew of people wearing pea coats and talking to the phones in their hands appeared to be on autopilot as they surfaced and turned to their next destination.

Ava stood next to Sara for a moment, watching her survey the scene. She took in the excitement that poured out of Sara's eyes and the way her smile got wider she as noticed new things. Ava took most of this for granted because it had been a part of her job and she had eased into it. Sara hadn't. Sara was seeing her innovations brought to life in the blink of an eye.

"Do you want to see something cool?"

"Cooler than the fact that I was right and this all worked?"

"It's shocking that such a thing might exist, I know." Ava sighed, rolling her eyes before leading them across the street and through the maze of people. "Come on."

* * *

There were more people underground than on the surface and they all knew where to go, what buttons to push, which sidewalk to take to reach their departure pad. A large board noting departures and arrivals illuminated the wall to the right of the staircase. Sara couldn't count the locations fast enough, but she estimated over fifty. Fifty places affected by something she designed. Fifty locations now connected seamlessly.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but her quick glance to her right told her she would be talking to no one. Ava had disappeared. Her eyes danced across the crowd looking for a tall blonde head of hair but finding that to be a widespread trait. Pivoting slowly, Sara surveyed the faces until she saw the woman working her way back through the crowd holding a pair of tickets. When Ava caught sight of Sara, she held them up with a questioning look. Sara’s eyes screamed her answer and Ava nodded her head down the long pathway. Sara followed as Ava expertly decoded the maze before them, leading to an idle train on track five. There was a middle-aged man ushering people in with the broadest smile Sara had ever seen. When she and Ava reached the front of the line, he beamed brighter.

"Director Sharpe. Finally getting a night with the old lady?"

"I'd be careful calling her old today, Mr. West," Ava responded with fabricated sternness while shaking his hand. "She's been a little sensitive about her age lately."

"I can hear you."

"See what I mean," Ava whispered, making a show of leaning into the man's space just enough for them both to stare in Sara's direction. She broke into a smile and the way it seemed to bring Ava to life and the sudden crinkle of her nose when the man chuckled loudly outweighed the wonder of everything Sara had seen that day. Ava placed her hand on the man's shoulder affectionately, and he offered an understanding grin as he took their tickets.

* * *

Trees swept past the window looking more like brush strokes of red, brown, and gray than living things. She knew if she looked much longer, she might hurl from the motion, so she turned back to Ava and found her making faces at a young girl who couldn't have been more than five. The girl clung to a stuffed toy in one hand and her father's arm with the other. She looked scared, but less so with each variation of Ava's expression. A few moments later, the girl ducked her head behind the toy she held and smiled broadly. Ava smiled back, and Sara had to shake her head to regain any semblance of control.

"I have a question," she said, needing something else to focus on. Ava kept her eyes on the little girl who attempted to recreate some of the faces she had seen Ava form.

"Ask away."

"Zach has my last name. But everyone still calls you Director Sharpe. Why?" Ava's attention shifted to Sara quickly.  It has been nearly a decade since they discussed it and she hardly thought of it anymore, so she didn't have a planned response the way she did for other questions she assumed Sara would ask.

"I made a name for myself before I met you," she began, finding her words with careful precision. "The name Sharpe means something in my profession and around my colleagues. I wasn't going to lose that ground just because I wanted to marry you. But, it is officially Lance."

"Why didn't we take yours?"

"You didn't like the way it sounded." Sara's face contorted beyond her control when she tried the combination in her head. She was glad her past-self had some sense in that decision. "Yeah, that's the same face you made then."

"Do you make a habit of doing whatever I want," Sara continued, finding that one question led to a dozen more. Fifteen years of decision and events trickling through one statement at a time. "It's not how I remember you. You always seemed so steady and sure and rooted."

"I still am, just in and about different things," Ava defended softly. "I didn't change my name lightly or just for the hell of it. There were discussions and reason, and we decided together that it was best for Zach. It seemed easier for him and us. I am still the same person you remember meeting."

Ava returned her attention momentarily to the little girl who had let go of her father's arm and now sat up on her own, reshaping her toy's face and laughing at her own creations. Sara watched as Ava matched the girl's smiles with grins and her laughs and soft chuckles. Aware that in her mind, she and Ava had only known each other for twelve hours before waking up married to her, Sara was still sure that the woman who sat next to her now was a different woman than the one she sat across from in the office. She was softer and lighter, and her eyes were wrapped in kindness. Sara wondered if that was an effect of time, their son, her, or some combination of all three. Ava's voice brought her attention back to the pod.

"If we hadn't met, hadn't gotten married and had Zach, where do you think your life would have gone? What would you be doing right now?"

Sara found the floor beneath her feet, processing the question. It took effort to configure such a world in her mind despite the understanding that a mere week ago it was her reality. It was hard, now, to picture an evening that didn't have neat script waiting for her on a nightstand, or a night that didn't involve freezing on the balcony listening to a recounting of her life, or wine and hand holding on Sunday nights or an early morning conversation someone had waited up to have with her. It was hard to picture a life where Ava wasn't this gentle, face-making, kind-hearted woman who married her. Now that it was hers, any other alternative seemed implausible. Her stomach flipped over itself lodging something that felt like realization in her throat. As foreign as this life was to her, Zari had been right: she cared, a lot, and it didn't seem to matter that she couldn't explain it, that she couldn't name the feeling or pinpoint its origin. All if that proved too much to voice, so she cleared her voice and offered an answer she knew was real.

"Honestly, I'd probably still be working crazy hours and forgetting to have a life outside of my career," she shrugged, distaste for the words coating her mouth. "I liked what I did, and I was good at it. I don't think I would have deviated from it."

Ava hummed softly, and though it held a hint of disappointment, it was filled with acknowledgment and agreement. Sara would bet Ava's life had been on a similar trajectory. When she could see the wheels turning in Ava's mind, Sara nudged her with her elbow, letting it linger on the woman's arm longer than she intended.

"But, I also wanted to be a dancer when I was little, so radical change isn't completely unheard of."

Ava's head snapped up, her eyes scrunching for the briefest of moments as her entire demeanor shifted in surprise. "You never told me that."

"Well, we met six days ago," she shrugged casually, "Give me a little time here."

Ava smiled, and Sara remembered the night at the bar when she was determined to see that same smile again and again and again. Throughout their life, she was sure she'd conjured it thousands of times. The knowledge that she didn't remember each one applied pressure to her already tight chest. In a fraction of a second, she was back to wondering how she ever wanted a life different than this one.

"You know, for someone who had such an interest in remaining in her career, you were quite confident about flirting with clients in bars."

The way Ava seemed to sit slightly straighter when she spoke, lead Sara to think she'd waited a long time for the clarification. The possibility that Ava still didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle released some of the weight on Sara’s shoulders. She wasn't alone is not fully grasping their relationship or how they arrived where they were: together and happy and thriving.

"You were interesting," Sara began, looking up in time to catch Ava studying her. "You were cautious and careful but somehow transparent. I couldn't begin to pin you down, and I wanted to know more."

"I see," she responded, the corners of her mouth pulled up without restraint. "And your version of learning more was to accuse me of dating Gary, buy a round of drinks, and walk away?"

"I didn't say I it was a good plan or that I had a plan at all. It just seemed like something I should do. I didn't realize I was signing away my life."

"What can I say, Lance? I can hitch a U-Haul so fast you won't remember it happened."

Sara laughed loudly enough to gain the attention of the other passengers, though neither could find a reason to care. The comment didn't feel insulting, it felt like an inside joke instead of a life-changing issue. There was freedom in the ridiculousness of the conversation and comfort that they could make light of the mere fact they were forced to have it. It made Sara want to continue to flesh out what was happening between them, what had already happened between them.

"I'm not sure I can explain it - what's going on in here," she said quietly after a moment, making a poor attempt at gesturing to her torso. "It was like this morning before I got to your office, actually. I just needed to see you. I wanted to talk to you and be around you. I don't know what to do with it, but it's there."

To both of their relief, a light flashed in the pod, and a voice boomed over the speakers that they would be arriving shortly. The air had begun to feel thicker, and the seating car was smaller than it had been when they boarded. As much as Ava wanted to unpack all of Sara's thoughts and feelings and reassure her it would work out, she wasn't sure they were there yet. Sara was still processing her own emotions, and Ava was determined to give her space to do that.  When the pod docked, Ava waved to the little girl and led Sara to the platform toward the crowd of people lined at the bottom of the staircase.

"Stay close. It gets a little crowded through this part."

Sara did as instructed, nearly reaching out for the back of Ava's jacket more than once. When they reached the top of the staircase, a bustling city materialized before her, though Sara couldn't make out which one. She quickened her pace to keep up with Ava's long strides until they had cleared most of the people and were safe across the main street.

"We're in Vancouver," Ava responded to the unspoken question.

"Is this where you're from?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sara felt silly for having to ask. It seemed like something she was supposed to know, but the evenness of Ava's response diminished her thoughts.

"I'm from Fresno. This is where I spent my formative years. I was hoping I could show you something. It's a little bit of a walk, but we've got some time before the next departure."

"Yeah," Sara responded, quickly. The urge to have Ava share something meaningful removed any hesitancy Sara had about following blindly. "I'd like that."

They walked in comfortable silence for nearly ten minutes before the city was left behind and they were engulfed in a forest of trees. Man-made paths ran in and out of the trees, but they appear to be on one known only the woman in front of Sara. At certain spots, where the rocks were loose, or the incline was steep, Ava would hold her hand out for Sara to take and Sara struggled to let go of it when the obstacle was clear.

When they reached the clearing, an old, worn bench sat nested in between two large boulders. Sara followed suit as Ava sat down and she was rewarded a view that felt familiar. Tall mountains with white tops acted as a barrier for the waves of the bay; the trees beneath her as far as she could see changing colors with the weather. The sun began its descent and casted shadows of moored boats, moving cars, and two women who were closer on the bench than Sara realized.

"Do you take all your dates here," she asked, clearing her throat and daring a glance at Ava, finding her eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes, Sara," Ava sighed affectionately, rolling her head to face the woman beside her.  "I wasn't a big dater when I was younger. The two women I dated before you were long-term relationships. We spent time here a lot. To be fair though, I took you here sooner than the others. It was maybe three months after we met."

"Three months? Wow, you sure you weren't moving too fast?"

"We were married by then," Ava responded casually as though she had said years and not months, as though it was a perfectly normal time frame and something Sara should see as reasonable.

Sara wanted to challenge her, explain there was no period in which she would get married that quickly, but as she was learning, there was a lot about herself that she didn't know. There was an entire person she became that began with Ava: meeting her, dating her, and marrying her. So, instead of outwardly reacting, she logged the information and asked a question that had been burning in her since she woke up five days ago.

"Speaking of...I've been meaning to ask how you and I became an us. How...when...did this happen." Sara gestured clumsily between them. Ava's smiled so broadly, and soft Sara wondered how anyone ever saw this woman as anything other than gorgeously tender and wildly intoxicating.

"After I left The Wave-Rider the day we met I managed to make my way home. It was late. It must have been after one and found you waiting on my doorstep. Nothing about the conversation made any sense, and you didn't do much to explain it, but I didn't have room to complain because you said that you wanted to be someone who deserved me and that I didn't want to miss out on our life together. It was hard not to fall for that."

Sara grinned proudly. Irrational, stubborn, confident: the type of woman she remembered being.

"That's huh...that's why this scares me so much."

Ava looked everywhere but at Sara, until Sara reached out and placed her hand just above Ava's knee. When Ava finally looked up, she saw curiosity and a hint of concern. Her eyes danced back and forth between Sara's, her doubt about continuing washed away in a sea of blue.

"After that night, you were so certain about me, about us. It was like you just decided we were going to be together and that was the end of the discussion. You were beautiful and smart and brazen and tender, and you wanted me. You made it easy to fall for you. And I did. I still don't fully understand what made you do that or what I had done to deserve it. The only thing I ever needed to know was that you loved me. Everything else I could deal with. So, this... it scares me."

Sara ducked her head, the honesty that hovered around them acting as a weight her mind could no longer hold. She gave Ava's leg a light squeeze before returning her hand to the warmth of her pocket. Ava returned her gaze to the horizon, watching as the icy waves gently hit the shore.  It was clear that Ava hadn't expected Sara to respond and was sure she didn't want her to, but that didn't stop the thought that doing nothing was detrimental to the progress she desired to make.

Scooting closer to Ava's side of the bench, Sara stopped when she felt her arm hit Ava's. If asked, she was prepared to blame the dropping temperatures but, with the way her entire side now burned, she knew that would be a lie. She knew it was a result of that constant weight in her gut that seemed to only say closer and more, which she wasn't ready to deal with yet. But Ava didn't ask, or comment, or react at all and Sara remembered that them being this close was normal for her. It was an everyday occurrence, and Sara envied that before she realized she could have it, too.

Glancing down at her hands buried in her pockets, the fabric of Ava's jacket betrayed her constant focus to keep distance between them. It was impossible to not notice the flex of Ava's jaw muscle that Sara couldn't play off as part of the cold. Though Sara had spent the better part of the afternoon ignoring the forming creases, she realized how a tiny act like holding hands or a chaste kiss or wrapping an arm around someone on a park bench could take an insurmountable toll, especially if there had been fifteen years of touches and kisses and understood boundaries.

There had not been a reprieve from the emotional conversations she forced Ava to have for her own understanding. There had been no outlet for days of anxiety and confusion and fear. Ava was creasing and clenching her way through the week, and she had done so without complaint. She hadn't pressured or pushed or assumed Sara would bounce back. Ava had been reliable and unflinching, and Sara was determined to allow the woman a moment of freedom from the chains of their situation. She was also acutely aware that she likely needed this as much as Ava did.

Reaching out, Sara grabbed onto Ava's wrist tugging slightly, asking for permission or trust or both. When it was granted, though accompanied by a confused stare, Sara inched Ava's hand over her head and around her waist until the woman pressed firmly against her side, her shoulder tucked neatly under Ava's as though it was crafted to fit there. Ava, reacting instinctively, burying her face in the soft curls of the woman holding her and exhaling deeply.

There was a new kind of intimacy in how close they were, how physically close Sara allowed them to be though nothing felt different. Her heart didn't beat out of her chest, and her lungs didn't collapse in on themselves. There weren't a flutter of butterflies dancing in her chest. It wasn't life-changing.

It was warm and soft. It was solid ground born from strong arms that she could stand on with confidence. It was a deep breath of cold air and clarity. It was her heartbeat slowing, and her muscles relaxing. The chatter of her mind went quiet, and it was replaced with the steady rhythm of Ava's breath just beside her ear. It was just them and the two feet of the bench they occupied.

"Are you okay," Sara asked when she felt Ava pull at her side, gripping her jacket tightly. Ava hummed contently in response, her face still impossibly close. Acting on impulse more than rational thought, Sara shifted, creating just enough space between them to be able to rotate. Ava pulled back, questioning the wide blue eyes that were staring at her like she was the answer to a question Ava wasn't prepared for her to ask. The intensity in Sara's eyes was something Ava had seen before, though she was sure it meant something entirely new.

"Don't..." The end of her sentence stopped in her throat. Ava wasn't sure what she wanted Sara not to do: don't move, don't do this, don't regret this, don't stop.

"Trust me," Sara responded quickly, her eyes trained on Ava's, not want her to pull away now, not when she was so close. Closing the distance between them, she pressed her lips gently against Ava's cheek. Ava's hand clung to her jacket as though she was a lifeline, but it felt tender.

"Thank you for being patient with me about all of this," she whispered, her lips hovering above Ava's cheek, Sara's forehead resting on her temple. "For what it's worth, this life, that kid, you, it all seems amazing."

"You only complain mildly about it," Ava grinned with an audible swallow, no longer attempting to appear composed. The perpetual amazement that a woman she has known and loved for fifteen years could still surprise her and cause mayhem she couldn't begin to tame was not something Ava wanted or had the strength to hide. The hand that found its way into the crook of her elbow, holding her in place, burned holes through her jacket and she was minutely aware of the subtle changes in pressure from Sara's nervous fidgeting.

"We should head back," came a soft voice, still impossibly close.

"What if we didn't go back yet? What if we stay here?" Her words were rushed and almost pleading. Ava tugged at the jacket in her hand, the urge not to give up the moment taking over. There was no guarantee that once they left the space that Sara would let her be this close again. There was no universal understanding that she could go back to casual touches. She needed the moment, the air around them, to last as long as possible.

"Are you trying to hijack my date," Sara questioned with a hint of teasing and a throat full of nerves.

"Not hijack it," Ava reasoned, making a show of finding the right word. "I'd like to redirect it."

"But I made a plan. We have reservations."

"No shows happen sometimes. Tonight, let's just see what happens."

It felt like an invitation to start over, to be on even ground. It felt like a reason to be free of the obligation of dancing around their circumstance. Perhaps there, Sara could pretend it was only a date, not a married couple's night out, and maybe Ava could assume the same, and they could relearn how to touch and tease and laugh and exist together. There was a deep sense of hope in Ava's suggestion and mirrored Sara's.

"Okay," she finally said. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock when they made it home. Sara had offered to shower second when Ava managed to yawn heavily most of the way back. So, she sat on the edge of the bed listening to the water start and then stop and the clinking of combs and bottles and toothbrushes, processing.

In twelve hours, she learned that Ava was the type of person to remember people's names: the wait staff, the taxi driver, the doorman; it didn't matter who they were. She was observant of everything around her, everyone around her. She was the kind of woman who held open doors and connected with every child she saw. With Sara's newfound knowledge of her less than typical childhood, she considered that to be an active effort Ava put forward, not an inherent trait. Sara learned that she was fluent in two languages and watched cooking shows nightly but still managed to burn dinner more than she didn't. Ava believed profoundly that every meal was family style as it 'allows you to have more experiences efficiently' and Sara had learned that sharing half your meal was worth making a beautiful woman smile. She only did crosswords puzzles on trains or planes to keep people from starting a conversation, not because she liked them. Everything about her was enduring; even the parts Sara knew, over time, would annoy her and parts she knew they must have fought about throughout fifteen years.

The water faucet in the bathroom stopped, and the door opened to reveal Ava with wet hair and a pair of matching pajamas, still towel drying her hair. There was steam coming from the bathroom in such volume that Sara wondered if she should have gone first.

"Did you leave any hot water in the city?"

"I told you to go first. If your shower is cold, it's not my fault."

"Unbelievable. I try to be nice, and this is what I get for it," she teased, grabbing her clothes from the dresser and moving past Ava to claim the bathroom. "Never again."

"Whatever you say, Sara," she hummed absentmindedly, and Sara wondered how many times she'd declared a similar thing and failed. It was clear to her that in this life, this time, she would put Ava first because Ava certainly did that for her.

"You still going to be awake when I get out?"

Ava draped her towel over the door and turned to Sara. She ran through her hair with her fingers as she surveyed the air around them.  Though she was exhausted, she nodded. If their night wasn't over, if Sara had more questions or wanted simply for the night not to end, she would find a second wind.

* * *

Sara wiped her hands and face on the towel in their bathroom and pivoted to turn off the light. Before she could flip the switch, movement from the bed caught her attention. Ava repositioned herself in a twisting fashion, ruffing the still made comforter. The woman had once again tried to stay awake for her and failed adorably to do so.

Spurred by a moment of courage and the overwhelming knowledge that there was no time like the present to deal with the feelings she'd tried to diminish, she shuffled to the empty side of the bed and climbed over to the sleeping woman. Laying down she moved strands of hair from Ava's face, ingraining the already permanent image further into her mind. Beside her, Ava stirred, barely conscious but aware enough to make Sara back away slightly, resting her hand on the bed between them.

Her eyes scrunched in slight confusion and then wide with concern when her surroundings registered; she hadn't meant to overstep or push boundaries they had worked all night to establish and agree on.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," Ava whispered, her voice lower than usual. Sara shook her head at the insinuation and quickly moved to ease her mind.

"I don't mind. I can go to the couch if you'd like. Or we can both stay here."

Once the words left her lips, she knew she meant them. The idea of staying in Ava's company a little while longer was nerve-racking but simultaneously calming and enticing.

"Sara..."

It came across as a warning, but Sara had trouble formulating coherent sentences and struggled to lie still, fidgeting with the sheets and the edge of the pillows.

"Hey. Talk to me. What's going on?"

Sara sighed heavily, finally turning her head to meet the soft gaze. She chuckled lightly because it was all a bit too comfortable and known and all a bit too strange and new. Each new iteration of forming sentence ended in a lazy shrug and a head shake because there weren't words for this, for her, for them. One moment they were shaking hands, the next she was married. One morning she woke up not remembering anything and another she woke up wanting never to forget.

Ava opened her mouth but stopped when she saw the shine of tears that would never fall. She lifted herself into a semi-upright position, and Sara quickly sat upright, crossing her legs with her hands folded in her lap.

Resting on her elbow, Ava reached across the newly formed divide and laid her hand just next to Sara's, careful not to move too fast. When Sara reached her finger out to latch onto her, Ava closed the distance between them until she was within range to press her lips gently on Sara's folded hands. Sara didn't pull away, and when Ava opened her hand as an invitation, Sara accepted quickly. They sat in the stillness for a minute until Ava cleared her throat, breathing in deeply.

"I love you, Sara." Ava shook her head and squeezed her hand when Sara opened her mouth to respond. "In some way or form, I have told you that every day for the past fifteen years. This week, due to your mid-life-memory crisis, I didn't. I thought if I told you, you'd freak out more and I wanted you to stay here."

"I'm glad I did," Sara whispered. Releasing their hands, Sara shifted down until she was mirroring Ava and joined their hands again. Her thumb absentmindedly made short, soft strokes back and forth and the motion steadied her mind from the confusion coating it. The pull between her shoulders toward the other woman was a chain and a pair of wings.

"This is the first time since we met that I don't know what tomorrow holds for us. I don't know when or if this will pass or another shoe will drop. I don't know a lot of things, but what I do know is that I am committed to you no matter what time you think we're in. If you want me around, I'm here. If you need more time or answers or space, I'll give it to you. We can figure out what this looks like one day at a time and you can question everything else along the way, Sara, just not me. Not how much I love you."

"I believe that." Her words came quick and sure. She didn't need to second guess something that was so plain and open and seen. The sigh Ava breathed out pulled Sara closer until the distance between them contained only their joined hands.  Through the dimly lit room, she could see the muscles in Ava's neck contract and release, an apparent effort to keep her from moving any closer. She brought her free hand to Ava's jaw; her ghosting touch raised every part of skin she touched.

Ava's forehead came to rest on Sara’s with an exhale of recognition and relief. Sara was weightless, the hand now resting on her hip her anchor to this life with a son and a wife she wanted deeply. She wanted time to rediscover it, time to catch up to it, time to settle into it. She wanted to ask a thousand questions and find some of the answers herself. She wanted to be the woman her son thought she was, the woman her wife needed her to be. Mostly, she wanted to be present, soaking in the gentle pressure of the hand still holding hers; she wanted to memorize every part of her body in contact with Ava's; she wanted to be lulled to sleep by the steady, always steady, breathing of the woman snoring softly beside her.

* * *

Sara woke with a gasp, jolting to an upright position. She opened and closed her eyes in rapid succession, shaking her head slightly. When her surroundings came into focus, her breath hitched. Gone were lavender sheets and an army of pillows, replaced by a gray couch and worn-down armrest. There wasn't a dark wood dresser with blue stickers. There weren't small picture frames containing the smiling face of her son. There wasn't Ava sprawled beside her.

Lifting her hips off the cushion, she fumbled for her phone, thankful it had battery left enough to display the date: October 27th, 2018. She dropped her hands onto her stomach, her mind racing toward understanding, hitting every logical hurdle on the way.

Yesterday was November 2nd, 2033 but her phone and location clearly displayed differing information.

Yesterday morning her son had come into her room and lounged on her bed, but that bed and that room and that son didn't exist in studio apartment.

Yesterday she and Ava rode the Hyperloop to Canada, but the plans that laid haphazardly on the coffee table proved it had yet to be designed, much less constructed and operational.

Yesterday, she was married to Ava Sharpe, but the familiar taste of whiskey on her tongue told her that she was merely a new acquaintance to the woman.

The initial, logical thought of it being a drunken figment of her imagination quickly dissolved into notions as ridiculous as being married had felt five days ago. Imaginary events don't make the waking air feel empty. Dreams don't leave marks that ghost over skin in the shape of fingerprints and gentle hands. Moments that never existed didn't make chests ache for a presence they've never known.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, in and then out, in and then out again in a failing attempt to calm her pulse.  Her body screamed for understanding, for the clarity being around Ava had provided. Sara wasn't an expert on love, but she would bet that it couldn't be felt so strongly nor wanted so thoroughly based on one meeting and a drink. Yet, there she sat with visions of a home and a son and a wife.

The nauseated feeling in her stomach, she knew, was desire and longing to see Ava again, to help settle her mind and answer questions about a version of them she could no longer see herself without. Grabbing her phone, she called the most recent contact likely to still be at the The Wave-Rider. When the call connected, she spoke in a flurry.

"Are you still at the bar?"

"Yep," Zari answered, popping the word animatedly. "Having more fun than you!"

"That's great," Sara said hurriedly, the clock on the wall informing her that, if she was right, time was, for a change of pace, still on her side. "Is Ava still there?"

"Her friend is; Gary you said? But your Director lady is walking out right now. So technically yes, but also no. Nope wait. Yep. Now she's gone. Nate wants to know if you need him to run after her"

"Dammit."

"Ray said you probably don't. Also, Amaya is currently glaring at me, and now she's reaching for the phone." There was a shuffle of skin against the microphone and the muffled sound of Ray and Zari bickering in the background before Amaya's voice filled the void. Sara was grateful someone still had their wits about them and could piece together that her calling might be important and time sensitive and life-changing.

"Hey, Sara. Sorry about that. Zari was trying to prove Ray wrong again. Apparently, mine is the only phone that could be trusted."

"No offense, Amaya, but I don't have time right now to care." As she spits words out as quickly as possible, Sara raced to the door, managing to grab a jacket and her keys. Locking the door behind her, she ran to the stairwell.

"What do you need?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this but Gary. I need Gary."

* * *

Ava strolled along the illuminated sidewalk, stumbling slightly more from fatigue than liquor but managing to keep a straight enough line. She shouldn't have gone out after such a long week, but Gary was a nice guy with good intentions and a heart as big as his smile. He was the only person who didn't assume she was a stiff right off the bat and she wanted to keep someone on her side. Well, him and Sara Lance, but she was another matter altogether.

She was the woman who walked into her office confident and more eager to stir the pot than do anything resembling standard. Then, she spent nearly four hours fighting every offer for improvement or change to an admittedly smart plan. And if four hours wasn't enough, she waltzed over to her at the bar and somehow pushed more buttons but understood when to stop. She was smooth but not pushy and joked but didn't prod unnecessarily. But mainly, Ava made a point to remember, she was infuriating.

Reaching her street, Ava turned and nearly ran into a man who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. They exchanged silent apologies and danced around each other until Ava was facing the direction of her apartment. Her senses were heightened at the silhouette of a person standing near the tree adjacent to her staircase. The frame was small, unassuming, bouncing slightly up and down to reduce the cold and Ava resented how she immediately knew who it was even though she couldn't imagine the reason. For her sanity, she blamed the whiskey for how her body seemed to come alive at the sight.

"Sara? What are you doing here?"

A cloth covered head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice coated in a recognized comfort. A broad smile formed at seeing Ava still in her work clothes. Her sleeves were clumsily rolled up and her jacket hung loosely over her arm despite the temperature. Her neat bun had begun to fall, and she looked at ease, but alert, as if she was calm and slightly pissed about it. She was beautiful.

Sara knew she should say something to explain herself, but the immediate responses that came to mind were jumbled and messy.

_ I wanted to make sure the thoughts running through my head weren't whiskey gone wrong. _

_ I thought about you and wanted to throw up but in a good way. _

_ I needed to see you because I missed you despite seeing you twice today. _

None of those options would end well and, if her calmed pulse and clear mind was any indication, Sara wanted this to never stop. She realized she was staring with a goofy grin on her face when Ava raised her eyebrows in slight frustration at not receiving a prompt reply.

"I have another proposal for you to consider."

"At one in the morning?"

"No time like the present," Sara offered weakly, realizing she was taking a risk, but remembering how Ava had described her impulsive certainty as a positive attribute rather than the annoying inconvenience she likely saw it as right now.

"I'm assuming it's one of the innovative and highly irrational variety."

"You'll likely think so, yes."

"All right let's hear it," she nearly spits back, trying to appear more in control of herself than she felt.

"We should get married," Sara stated, her demeanor unaffected though time seemed to have stopped with her words and, for the second it took the say them, her heartbeat.

Ava, unsure if she was offended, mortified, or considering the statement, saw two options: Sara had just proposed to her, or that she had only heard her ask by mistake. Neither option provided her with an outcome she was equipped to handle in her present state because while she was acutely aware of the breeze pushing the leaves off the trees and onto her boots, she was more aware that the same breeze was making the waves in Sara's hair dance. With each gentle gust, Sara wrapped her jacket a little closer to her body, and Ava's body seemed tethered to the fabric as she felt herself lean slightly forward before forcing herself back. A few blocks up the street, she could hear a car alarm armed and the laughter of the couple it belonged to, but it was hardly a whisper against how hard her heart thudded, relentlessly on the walls of her chest.

Despite knowing these senses to be fact, she was entirely aware that none of that should matter: Sara's hair, her pull, her confidence, and surety. They should be irrelevant because the entire situation was ludicrous. Her voice was quiet, but stern when she finally spoke.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm serious," Sara replied, not moving from her position between Ava and her front door.

"As flattering as I am sure this is all meant to be," Ava began, gaining confidence with each word until she found herself moving past Sara toward her door. The quicker she removed herself from the conversation, the sooner she would be able to process it. She was struggling to do anything because Sara looked so fondly at her and with such tenderness, she was liable to believe her. "We've known each other for less than 12 hours, and it is currently well past one in the morning, and you are clearly drunk and confused. I will see you next week, Miss. Lance."

"At least have dinner with me," Sara said hastily, attempting with sheer volume to keep Ava outside because this had to work, this had to end in seeing her again. When she stopped searching for the right key, Sara continued. "I'll even wait to propose again until dessert."

Ava turned back around, rubbing her eyes, trying to ask a host of questions she hadn't fully formed and was not convinced she wanted answers to at all.

"You came to my apartment to propose marriage to me so that I could reject you because you want to have dinner instead. An event at which you may or may not propose again. Assuming that makes sense, how did we get from you buying one drink to the irrational idea that you and I should get married?"

With eggshells beneath her feet, Sara took the three steps separating her from a woman furiously attempting to put together a puzzle whose pieces time had yet to make.  She was asking for blind trust, acceptance without proof, from a woman known for her deliberately planned existence and contingency plans for the worst-case scenario of events she had yet to encounter. Sara was asking that woman to ignore reason, toss aside any thought and just say yes. A soft smile grew from the understanding of how much this woman would eventually love her, how much their son would eventually love her, how much she knew she already loved them.

"That's a complicated answer, and this is a lot; believe me, I understand. You like to color in the lines, and I'm asking you to forget lines exist. I realize I'm asking you to trust me, against whatever standard or process manual is currently running through your head. I can be impulsive and irrational, and I haven't thought past tomorrow in so long I can't tell you how I got to where I am," Sara released a soft chuckle. Then, Ava's eyes soften, her eyebrows scrunched, and it looked so much like the Ava she remembered early in the morning, so patient and tender and kind. Bombarded with the familiar desires and longing to be near her, as close as Ava would allow, she found the strength to power through.

"This is not a joke or drunken ramble. I wouldn't do that to you. I am serious about you. I can be patient. I can wait for you to figure this out. If you need another week or two, that's fine because I know that you don't want to miss this life we build together. You aren't going to want to miss how good we can be together." Sara paused and took a deep breath, the subtle scent of bar smoke and whiskey and Ava filling her lungs and a desire she remembered having on a bench in Vancouver consumed her again. "And, in the continued spirit of complete honesty, I would also really, really like to kiss you right now."

"Okay." The word was out of her mouth before Ava knew it had formed, but she could find no reason to retract it. The soft glow of stark blue eyes forced any resistance down.

Sara's lips found hers and Ava wondered why this woman's fingertips trailing her cheek sent a flash of awareness to every nerve in her body. A warm hand rested just above the small of her back and nearly lifted her off the sidewalk, forcing her to lean closer, chained by the tenderness and attention of a woman she could feel was smiling. Her body was working on autopilot, knowing better than her what she needed. Every list, plan, and strategic choice she had ever made seemed to be a moot point, slowly floating further away with every move of Sara's lips and every moment they rested on hers.

When Sara pulled away, the rest of Ava's body froze except the exact shape of the hand that had fallen to the skin just above her chest. There wasn't time to formulate a list of possible rebuttals, or actions. There wasn't an explanation for why she wanted to kiss her again. There was just a woman looking back at her smiling from her eyes with a certainty that made Ava question everything all over again.

"Let me know if dinner tomorrow works for you," Sara whispered before backing away. The space she left in front of Ava was cold and empty in a way it hadn't been before Sara occupied it. Tucking her hands back into her pockets, Sara turned to make her way down the street, fighting every fiber of her being from taking more of Ava's space, her time, and her limits of spontaneity. She was nearly at the corner when Ava's voice reached her.

"Yes."

"Yes, to which part?"

"Dinner," she clarified, accenting each syllable an octave higher than necessary and giving a warning look that felt more like a familiar, gentle tease.

"Okay, Ava. Dinner it is," Sara practically sung, pulling a soft, shy, smile from Ava that was a far cry from the wide, open, bright ones she knew the woman capable of, but it was a start. She watched Ava walk to the top of her steps, fiddle with her keys and disappear behind the large door before she turned in the direction of her apartment. The uncontrollable smile plastered on her face that she had no desire to remove or hide, she thought, was just what people looked like when the rest of their lives were about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing with me these past couple of weeks - it was not my intention to leave you hanging. I appreciate the kind words about this piece and that each of you took the time to read it. 
> 
> Until next time, folks. Make everyday a great day!


End file.
